We've all heard that kids say the darnedest things, but until I had the opportunity to watch my own small human develop language, I'm not sure I really appreciate the hilarity of what actually comes out of their mouths.
We've had some real gems in the last month or so since Bella's language really accelerated from single words and commands into full sentences, made up songs and stories, even jokes.
In an effort to record and remember the amazing things she says, I give you my latest series, The Things You Say.
About a month ago I was getting her dressed before daycare. We always talk about her outfit, name the articles of clothing. I ask her what colour her socks are, or what's on her shirt. Things like that. This particular morning, I was putting her in a polka-dotted long-sleeved shirt:
Me to Bella: "What's on your shirt?"
Bella to me: "Coconuts!"
Another morning, just a few days ago. Again, getting dressed. This time we're naming body parts. She's working her way down my arms:
"Mommy's arms, Mommy's elbows, Mommy's hands, Mommy's fingers, Mommy's fingernails..." A pause while she stares at my hands intently, searching for the right word... "Mommy's nickles!"
I laughed and corrected her. "Close Bella, but those are called knuckles."
This morning, the whole family is lying in bed while Bella drinks her morning bottle. She's sitting between us, looking from one of us to the other, chattering away, again naming body parts. Suddenly she points to Crown's bare chest and smiles.
Bella to us, in a very proud voice: "Daddy's knuckles!"
Me, confused for just a second before cracking up: "Almost Bella, but those are nipples."
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
In the Morning
Surprisingly, now that I've been back to work for just over a year, my mornings with Bella have become my favourite part of the day. We usually have a good hour together, just she and I, and there's nothing more beautiful to me than seeing her sleepy face when I go in to wake her up.
Bella wakes up just like me, hair everywhere, face a little puffy and a lot pouty, slightly demented with the fogginess of early morning. She's usually crusty but in a funny way, quick to fight me on every detail, but always just a tickle away from hard-earned giggle fit. I love how she smiles and chats to herself while enjoying her morning bottle in my bed, while I try on outfits and put on my face.
I love picking out her outfit for the day and take immense pleasure in all her tiny adorable fashions. I am going to be really sad the day she stops letting me help her choose her clothes.
I have to admit, that while I love our morning ritual together, the pleasure ends quickly once we're done upstairs and have to head downstairs for breakfast. This part of the routine always feels rushed. My girl likes to eat slowly while wandering about and there's no time for dawdling once we hit the kitchen portion of our morning. I always have one eye on the clock and she always knows it.
That's not to say that we don't have struggles upstairs too. Oh. WE HAVE SOME STRUGGLES. It's just that while we're upstairs the day is still young and fresh, and the ticking clock is still out of sight. Her feisty attitude is hard not to love when she's traipsing around in footy pajamas and bedhead. Her screams and disagreements are met with my own smiles and hugs. It's our special, private time of day, and despite the struggles I'll treasure our mornings together for as long as the sun does rise.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Not Quite There
I've read that there's not much point starting to potty train your child if they are not ready. I'm pretty sure that mine is not ready. Though she wakes up most morning with a dry diaper and doesn't have her first pee until or during her morning bottle, she still doesn't give us any verbal indication that she has to go, nor does she really care if her diaper is wet or otherwise. She'd rather just live with the soggy bottom than have to give up playing and go get changed.
A few weeks back, in the baby aisle at the grocery store, we passed by a Dora potty seat and Bella said to me, "I want that, Mommy." I kind of knew that she only wanted it because of the Dora factor but I explained to her that it was meant for going potty.
Me: "Do you want to try to use the Potty?"
Her: "Yes, Mommy. I want to use that Dora potty."
Sold. The potty seat came home with us. My first attempt to put her on it went something like this.
Me: "Bella, should we sit on your new Dora potty?!"
Her (in a full high pitched shriek): "NOOOO!"
Later that day I decided not to ask her and just pick her up, before putting her in the waiting bath, and sit her on it. Yeah. Ever tried to put a cat in the tub? She basically folded completely backwards, smashed her head off the back of the toilet, leaped six feet into the air and clung onto the ceiling with her bare hands.
Since then, I've tried a few more times to coax her to sit, with absolutely no success whatsoever. Instead, whenever we're kind of milling about upstairs, doing our wake up or bedtime routine or even just playing around, I leave the potty seat sitting on the toilet and casually mention it from time to time. She's getting used to it being there and sometimes I catch her just standing next to it, looking at Dora and Boots and talking quietly about "the Dora potty." She even says, "Goodnight Dora potty," after she brushes her teeth before bed.
Friday morning I was in my room getting dressed and Bella was milling around with her toys, waiting until I was ready to go downstairs and get breakfast. I came into the bathroom to finish up my make up and saw this:
Is she ready yet? Not quite. But I'm proud of the progress that Alex the Monkey is making, and I'd say that my own monkey is likely not that far behind.
A few weeks back, in the baby aisle at the grocery store, we passed by a Dora potty seat and Bella said to me, "I want that, Mommy." I kind of knew that she only wanted it because of the Dora factor but I explained to her that it was meant for going potty.
Me: "Do you want to try to use the Potty?"
Her: "Yes, Mommy. I want to use that Dora potty."
Sold. The potty seat came home with us. My first attempt to put her on it went something like this.
Me: "Bella, should we sit on your new Dora potty?!"
Her (in a full high pitched shriek): "NOOOO!"
Later that day I decided not to ask her and just pick her up, before putting her in the waiting bath, and sit her on it. Yeah. Ever tried to put a cat in the tub? She basically folded completely backwards, smashed her head off the back of the toilet, leaped six feet into the air and clung onto the ceiling with her bare hands.
Since then, I've tried a few more times to coax her to sit, with absolutely no success whatsoever. Instead, whenever we're kind of milling about upstairs, doing our wake up or bedtime routine or even just playing around, I leave the potty seat sitting on the toilet and casually mention it from time to time. She's getting used to it being there and sometimes I catch her just standing next to it, looking at Dora and Boots and talking quietly about "the Dora potty." She even says, "Goodnight Dora potty," after she brushes her teeth before bed.
Friday morning I was in my room getting dressed and Bella was milling around with her toys, waiting until I was ready to go downstairs and get breakfast. I came into the bathroom to finish up my make up and saw this:
Is she ready yet? Not quite. But I'm proud of the progress that Alex the Monkey is making, and I'd say that my own monkey is likely not that far behind.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Happy Birthday to You: 2 YEARS OLD
Dear Anabella,
Yesterday you turned 2 years old.
As I type you are climbing in your new little chair, a gift from me and Dad, wearing your paper birthday crown (yes, still), your feather boa and chattering away contentedly to yourself. Happy, curious, talkative, adorable. Two. Two!
There were several moments this week, leading up to your big day, when I was literally stopped in my tracks with a racing heart and breathless disbelief that the day was going to come. That we'd gather as a family and sing happy birthday to you for the second time. Already? How?
This was a good week. You were feeling well after months of struggling with an on again, off again cough and cold. We finally dosed you with antibiotics and holy wow! Thank you modern medicine! Suddenly you were yourself again. We shared snuggles, and fits of laughter, tickle fights, and quiet moments just sitting close. These magical moments make me want to hit the pause button and freeze time. Stay like that, happy and laughing and so in love with you right then and there, just like that, forever.
But at the same time that thinking makes me recoil at the inappropriateness of it. Because for so many moms and babies in this world, those moments to get frozen way too soon. A horrible thing happened in Haiti this month and it's shaken me to the core. Not only because of the sheer unimaginable horror of it all, but because we were together on that very island only three days before the earthquake hit. We shared one of the most beautiful weeks of my life on that very island that today has been utterly devastated by the very same nature that we were frolicking in mere days beforehand.
I guess what I'm trying to say, is that even though I wish at times that I could keep you small and sweet forever, I do not for one moment take for granted the absolute privilege that it is to watch you grow. Not even the tantrums or the "NO MOMMIES" or the 500,000 episodes of Dora (Doo doo doo Dora doo doodoodoodoo Dora) that you make us watch over and over and over.
Two years ago yesterday at approximately 4:30pm, I looked down into your tiny, perfect little face and held your fresh, warm body against my chest and I thought, in that moment, that it would not be possible to feel a love any greater than I did right then. I thought, utterly incorrectly, that if we could freeze that moment I'd have already reached my capacity for happiness. But that wasn't true. Because today I love you a billion times more. Every day I love you more and more.
Happy birthday Bella.
Love,
Mommy
Yesterday you turned 2 years old.
As I type you are climbing in your new little chair, a gift from me and Dad, wearing your paper birthday crown (yes, still), your feather boa and chattering away contentedly to yourself. Happy, curious, talkative, adorable. Two. Two!
There were several moments this week, leading up to your big day, when I was literally stopped in my tracks with a racing heart and breathless disbelief that the day was going to come. That we'd gather as a family and sing happy birthday to you for the second time. Already? How?
This was a good week. You were feeling well after months of struggling with an on again, off again cough and cold. We finally dosed you with antibiotics and holy wow! Thank you modern medicine! Suddenly you were yourself again. We shared snuggles, and fits of laughter, tickle fights, and quiet moments just sitting close. These magical moments make me want to hit the pause button and freeze time. Stay like that, happy and laughing and so in love with you right then and there, just like that, forever.
But at the same time that thinking makes me recoil at the inappropriateness of it. Because for so many moms and babies in this world, those moments to get frozen way too soon. A horrible thing happened in Haiti this month and it's shaken me to the core. Not only because of the sheer unimaginable horror of it all, but because we were together on that very island only three days before the earthquake hit. We shared one of the most beautiful weeks of my life on that very island that today has been utterly devastated by the very same nature that we were frolicking in mere days beforehand.
I guess what I'm trying to say, is that even though I wish at times that I could keep you small and sweet forever, I do not for one moment take for granted the absolute privilege that it is to watch you grow. Not even the tantrums or the "NO MOMMIES" or the 500,000 episodes of Dora (Doo doo doo Dora doo doodoodoodoo Dora) that you make us watch over and over and over.
Two years ago yesterday at approximately 4:30pm, I looked down into your tiny, perfect little face and held your fresh, warm body against my chest and I thought, in that moment, that it would not be possible to feel a love any greater than I did right then. I thought, utterly incorrectly, that if we could freeze that moment I'd have already reached my capacity for happiness. But that wasn't true. Because today I love you a billion times more. Every day I love you more and more.
Happy birthday Bella.
Love,
Mommy
Sunday, January 10, 2010
If You Like Pina Coladas
Just got back from a week in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic and our first international family vacation. Suffice it to say that we had an amazing time and that all of us needed the getaway and the week to just unwind, reconnect and relax.
And relax we did. Especially my Bella. My shy, reserved, cautious little girl took to the new routine (or lack there of), the sand and surf as I should have known any child of mine would. I could literally see her shedding her shell and letting loose almost as soon as we arrived. She was all smiles, giggles and unbridled joy as she frolicked in the ocean, rolled in the sand, and perhaps best of all, danced and danced to the sounds of the salsa and merengue that was the backdrop to our seven days and nights.
The affects of a whole week, just the three of us, with nothing to do but be together, unburdened by work and chores and our busy city life can not possibly be summed up or demonstrated any better than by this video, shot in front of an airport full of people as we waited to board our plane and fly home. My girl, unselfconscious and as carefree as any toddler should be, shaking what her mama gave her, dancing like there was nobody on earth but her and us. Making my hopes for her come true, even if just for a few blissful moments:
And relax we did. Especially my Bella. My shy, reserved, cautious little girl took to the new routine (or lack there of), the sand and surf as I should have known any child of mine would. I could literally see her shedding her shell and letting loose almost as soon as we arrived. She was all smiles, giggles and unbridled joy as she frolicked in the ocean, rolled in the sand, and perhaps best of all, danced and danced to the sounds of the salsa and merengue that was the backdrop to our seven days and nights.
The affects of a whole week, just the three of us, with nothing to do but be together, unburdened by work and chores and our busy city life can not possibly be summed up or demonstrated any better than by this video, shot in front of an airport full of people as we waited to board our plane and fly home. My girl, unselfconscious and as carefree as any toddler should be, shaking what her mama gave her, dancing like there was nobody on earth but her and us. Making my hopes for her come true, even if just for a few blissful moments:
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