Princess of Power

What's that? Take two years in between posting things on my blog? Sure, don't mind if I do.

In my mind, I've been a very good blogger with regular updates for family far away. I've kept photos current and stories fresh. I've documented all of the wonderful things that I've made for my wonderful daughter while my wonderful husband wonderfully tolerates my wonderful hobby. I've documented a first day of school and riding a bike (WITH training wheels--I'm not that far behind), the loss of a beloved kitty, and the addition of a puppy.

But yeah...Let's just dive back in like I've been doing this all along, okay?

So, Happy Halloween from She-ra!

 

This year I decided that I wasn't going to put a bunch of time and effort into making a costume for Charlie. Why go through all of the hassle for a one-day-only outfit? (To lend validity to that reasoning, let's just suspend reality and pretend that I'm NOT the mom who encourages allows her child to wear costumes year-round.) Enter the "what do you want to be?" conversation, followed by a quick web search to find one toddler-size Princess of Power costume.

Guess what? They don't exist. Oh sure, if you're a grown woman who watched She-ra when she was in her prime (we're talking 1985 here), then you can be She-ra. If not, too bad.

After a bit more help from good old Google, we turned up some lovely home-made She-ra costumes, though. Great. Fine. I agreed to make one, but I wasn't going to like it. (Spoiler: I did. I really, really did.) I found some red and white metallic shot cottons from Fabric.com, along with some gold ombre spandex. Amazon led me to a simple white leotard and nude footless tights. I figured that the rest of the details would just kind of come together as we went.

Aside from a belt that I probably should have basted down so that it would quit creeping up her belly, it's not too shabby!

 

I had originally planned on making some sort of leg warmer/boot cover things for her, but Target came to the rescue with these cuties. (Does my three-year-old own more pairs of boots than I do? Maybe.) We also found a sword in the Halloween section at Target, and she was content with it as it was. You better believe that the purist in me started to spiral out of control, though, envisioning ways to She-ra-ize that baby. I painted on the chest emblem with some fantastic gold glitter paint that we found at Joann, completed by a single turquoise sew-on rhinestone. Of course, you can't buy a single rhinestone, so I now have a small bag of those just waiting to find a home.


The white shot cotton turned into a simple, double layer, elastic-waist skirt. No pattern, I just cut a yard in half and double layered it because it's fall and the fabric is pretty thin. The cape came together using a darling pattern from My Childhood Treasures that I already had. I just eliminated the hood, and cut about three or four inches off the front pieces in the center. (Sorry! I was just kind of winging it, so I didn't track the changes very well.) I added button holes at each shoulder of the cape so that she can easily remove it, and the gold buttons that secure the cape are a nice little nod to the additional gold on She-ra's outfit. The belt, necklace, and armbands are all jersey-covered fleece. 

It might be the head-dress that made this the most fun for me, though. Joe is normally content to just let me go, but early on in this project I mentioned that I was putting him in charge of the crown. And did he nail it, or what?

 

You can really see it in all of its glittery goodness in the photo above. (The lovely Egyptian goddess on the left is my pseudo-niece Jordyn. She's delightful, but I had nothing to do with her costume. Sorry, J.)

Anyway, after gathering a few supplies along our travels, the crown ended up coming together with a foam visor and some sparkly gold foam paper, both from Joann. Some cutting, some glue, the addition of a red jewel that we had on hand, and voila!

 

She totally loved it. The day I had her try the whole thing on, she declared, "Mommy, I'm the REAL She-ra!" High praise indeed.

Someone should really teach her not to run with swords, though.

Yes, please.

Alternate title: Why My Child Screaming "LOWWWWWD!" While You Try to Eat Your Dinner is Actually Polite (And Why Did You Sit So Close to Us When There Are Plenty of Tables Open?*)

So, wee lil' Charlie had a handful of signs that she used before she could talk. Adorable little pudgy-fingered signs for things like more and milk and please.

Here's evidence from early April (over seven months ago!) of the unprompted "please," followed by evidence of why Charlie thinks she can have whatever she wants whenever she wants it. Good parenting in full effect, ya'll!

Yes, very practical and helpful and did I mention adorable? But she can say words now, and does. A lot. Except for please. That one's been a challenge.

If you prompt her to say please, she'll quickly rub her chest like any good little ASL student should. Great, but perhaps it's time to try saying things without our hands? No? Well, would you like Mommy to teach you some new sign language? Just pay attention in the car, Sweetheart, and you'll learn some new vocabulary words, too!

And thus began my brilliant quest to get my toddler to speak in three easy steps:

1. I started with asking Charlie each time she signed please, to say it with her mouth instead. Genius! Except, what does my kiddo do? She's just moved her hand up from her chest and started rubbing her lips instead. (I'm not gonna lie, I actually think that's pretty smart. Again, the adorable... it's overflowing I tell you!)
2. Though the mouth signing was cute, it wasn't exactly what I was going for. Up next, each time she signed, I'd respond with, "Say it out loud." To which she'd respond with "Loud." OK. Well, at least she's saying something, right?
3. And the final phase: I tricked her! Ha, take that, Toddler! I got her to repeat after me by saying PLEASE! really, really loudly, and then please! really, really softly. And it worked! Sort of... I can get her to say it now, but it takes much cajoling, and I have to say it in a really exaggerated way first. Good thing I like speaking like a Muppet.

So, there you have it: How to almost get your toddler to say "please" in a way that everyone around them will understand. Almost.

Enter dinner last night and another proud parenting moment. After negotiating with Charlie to let us have something other than beans and rice, she agreed that a 'tato would be good. Off we went, happy to be one day into a short work week. Food was ordered, food was delivered to our table, Elmo was offered bites of potato. (This is the first time in a couple of weeks that Elmo has been invited to join us for an outing thanks to Charlie's on-going love of all things pig. He was really hungry.)

As we were winding down, Charlie decided she'd like some ice from Daddy's cup for dessert. (I know, we're spoiling her.) I, of course, prompted her to say please.

And then I watched her start to sign. But, but, BUT! She stopped mid-sign.

I could see the wheels turning in her brilliant little mind. Charlie knew that she was supposed to say please. She opened her mouth, I braced myself for a pride swell, and she said as clearly as she possibly could, with as much volume as she could muster:

LOWWWWWDDD!

Ah, manners.

*A woman came in toward the end of our meal and chose to seat herself at the booth right behind us. She even sat down in the seat that backed up to the seat Charlie and I were sharing. Huh? I didn't even try to keep the kid quiet because really? You picked your poison, lady.

BIG TIME PIG TIME.

What’s this? A Blog post? From me?

I could go through the motions of trying to condense the last missing six months worth of life into one lil’ old update, but let’s be realistic here: it ain’t happening. I can’t. I won’t. Let’s not.

Instead, let’s jump right into how we’re Kopp-ing these days. PIG!

At some point in the last couple of weeks, Charlie dug up an old VHS copy of “Babe” at Gramma Kate’s house. Yes, much to Joe’s chagrin, I let Charlie watch TV. I try to make sure it’s moderately educational, or at least not full of quick edits and strobe lights, but I work from home in the afternoon. I either get an assist from a televised playmate, or I have to teach Charlie how to place media buys and edit e-newsletters, and frankly, her spelling is just terrible. (This would be the part where Joe would say that if I didn’t let her watch so much TV, that she’d be able to spell. Don’t be stoopid, Daddy.)

So, “Babe.” She loves that movie. I mean, she loves it. She goes to bed requesting “Pig,” and wakes up asking for it again. If you make the mistake of mentioning one of the animals in the movie, like say, a sheep (you’d be surprised how often sheep come up in conversation with a toddler), then she asks for it again. That poor old tape has been rewound so many times in the last week that I’m surprised it still plays at all.

But Grandma Vickie is here this week for a visit, and guess what she found at Target? Well, that would be “Babe” on DVD, of course! Charlie’s very own copy to keep at our house, where she now not only requests “Pig,” but will specify “Pig… DVD.”

And you know what makes watching “Babe” on DVD even better? Watching it with Babe! I’m sure that we’ll eventually have to add a tuft of hair to the top of this little guy’s head, but for now she loves him whole-heartedly. Thank you, Grandma Vickie for both the DVD and the softest little piggy friend ever!

Confession: On one (or five) of our viewings, I may have been overheard whispering to her that while some people eat pigs, Mommy and Charlie do not. See, I can do my own brainwashing, television or no.

It's not too late for Easter, is it?

I figure at this rate, I should have a nice, complete Mother's Day update by the time Father's Day rolls around. And a Father's Day post by Labor Day. And a Labor Day post by... well, you get the idea.

So without further ado, here is one slightly stale "How we spent our Easter" post.

Alternate blog title: Are you happy now, Amity and Catey?
(That's right. I called you out for calling me out being supportive and encouraging and urging me to write more. That'll teach you thanks!)

Up first, a Thurb-Bunny. I can only assume that he was downstairs keeping a lookout for a more traditional Easter mascot. I repaid his dedication to protecting the family and his food dish by hiring someone to shave him. No, really, I did. Photos to come on that one later. Maybe by Christmas.

And this? Well, this is Charlie with her very first Easter basket. No, it's not her first Easter, but I am a terrible mother hell-bent on ruining every holiday with lack of festivities and late blog posts didn't think a three month old (last year) would appreciate a basket full of sugar quite as much as a 15-month-old (this year). That, and a year ago I was much better about what I ate since the kid was nursing, like, every half hour. This year? Bah! Sure, she still wanders up to me asking for milk, but it's a lot easier to distract her with a Cadbury Creme Egg these days.

(Embarrassing admission: I had to look up whether it was "creme" or "cream." If we had any of them left, I'm pretty sure I'd have to give one up as punishment.)

Oh, and by the way, the basket clenched in Charlie's lil' hands was once clenched in my lil' hands, but I find it hard to believe that mine were ever as cute as hers.

In addition to candy, the Easter Bunny also tried to make my kid smarter. 

Stupid Bunny.

(Tweety Bird basket from Grandma Vickie & Grandpa Joe!)

The magic of the aforementioned Cadbury Creme Eggs is seen below. (Don't worry Charlie, you're not the first person to display a double chin in the presence of a Cadbury Egg.)

If you ask Charlie, however, the real magic of the Easter basket was not the candy (though it was good), and it certainly wasn't the flashcards (pfft!).

It was the pink "grass" that somehow got spread all over the living room. 

If only we knew how that happened...

Skip ahead a few hours. Have some time to kill? You should probably just follow someone around taking their picture. People love that. Especially toddlers.

The real point of these pictures is to point out that after much hemming and hawing, I cut Charlie's hair. OK, that sounds more impressive than the reality of me grabbing a flap of her long, born-with-it hair and snipping it to be the same length as her grew-in-later, thicker hair. But still, first haircut!

And it happened just before Easter, so it belongs in this post, right?

Charlie is clearly delighted with her new 'do.

Easter basket? Check!

Educational toy? Check! (And eye roll.)

Haircut? Check!

It must be time for a bit of egg hunting at Gramma Kate and Grampa Greg's house.

Yes, yes, it is.

Charlie's buddy (and surrogate big sister) Jordyn helped teach Charlie the ropes. For the record, Jordyn is a very patient teacher. Charlie is a less receptive student.

Unless you count her dedication to mastering a surly, "Don't tell me to pick up these eggs, I didn't drop them out here!" demeanor, in which case, A+!

So, Easter eggs? Blah.

Big, rubber ball? Suh-weet! And also worthy of some very deep, introspective thinking.

And then there was the obligatory Easter family photo. Obligatory because I SAID SO! Nah, everyone was delighted with my suggestion that we pose for a family shot. Charlie couldn't get enough. She just wanted us to keep asking her to stay still and look at the camera. She was nothing but smiles and joy.

Or not.

Is it just me, or does she look like she's really contemplating the merits of spitting on my head?

But, BUT! We got one. Sure, Joe might be the only one facing the camera, but thanks to the angle on my girl and me, my friend Sue pointed out that Charlie's nose wrinkles like mine when she smiles. And that, family and friends, is worth her thinking about spitting on me.

What a difference a year makes!

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter. And Mother's Day. And, well, have a Happy Thanksgiving, too, in case I don't get to tell you that until next February.

(OK, one more embarrassing admission: I totally airbrushed the bags out from under my eyes in the "Last Year" photo. True, I couldn't erase the dead-tired look in my gaze, but at least my skin looks fresh!)

Grandma and Grandpa come to visit!

Rule of blogging #1: Write new posts.

Oops.

You see, I actually started working on this particular update a couple of weeks ago, but things like, oh say, the birth of a baby to my dear friend who was serving as a surrogate (a separate post to come on that one!) and taking care of my own monkey ate up a lot of my free time. That, and TV. "16 and Pregnant" isn't going to watch itself, you know.

But I'm back! And wow, do I have a lot to share. OK, let me amend that to say I have a lot OF PHOTOS to share. Really, if you're here, I know you just want the pictures anyway. Words, shmords, right?

So without further ado, photo collage time!

Eariler this month Grandma Vickie and Grandpa Joe came to visit us all the way from Nebraska!

And we took pictures!

This is not Grandma Vickie. This is Grandma Vickie's sister Aunt Pattie. She and Cousin Caroline (in the room, but not in the picture) live in North Carolina, but we don't see them nearly enough. We should do something about that! Also, that is Charlie's tummy.

This is also not Grandma Vickie, nor is it Grandpa Joe. This is Gramma Kate and Grampa Greg and the two suckers Charlie calls parents. Among Charlie's favorite things is time spent on the swing, and she's an expert at conning you into standing there far longer than you want to. One little pouty lip and a quick sign for "more, please" and we're stuck standing in mulch, swinging our little dictator. That's love.

My parents (Gramma Kate and Grampa Greg) love to entertain. Or maybe it's not so much that they love to entertain as they think Joe and I are terrible entertainers. (To be fair, they haven't seen the gymnastics routine we've been working on.) In any case, they (Gramma Kate & Grampa Greg) love to see Grandma Vickie and Grandpa Joe, too, so we spent an afternoon at their place letting Charlie show her Nebraska Grandparents how she likes to spend her weekdays. But this time we added bubbles! 

Yep, we added bubbles AND balls.

This is Grandma Vickie and Grandpa Joe! (The other guy is Dad.) We took a trip to the Science Center where we saw meerkats, lemurs, tigers, wolves, and dinosaurs. And we wrestled a toddler.

Hey, it's me with my boss! We're working on getting her to carry me sometimes, too.

Yeah, you're not supposed to feed the animals, but look at how sweet that is!

Grandma Vickie sighting on the right! (Mommy lurking on the left.)

Elmo! G&G brought Charlie her very first balloon while they were in town, and it was nothing less than a total hit. He's still floating around the living room, deflated but buoyant. Good thing our new decorating scheme is to use as much brightly colored plastic as possible. He practically blends in.

And do you know what's hard to do? Get four people to look at the camera at the same time. But, BUT! How sweet is the kiss Grandma is stealing in that picture? It makes my heart melt.

We love you Grandma Vickie and Grandpa Joe!

Portrait of a sleeping baby

I remember trying to capture pictures of Charlie in the very beginning, ones we would proudly attach to emails sent to faraway family with notes about how big she was (huge!), how often she cried (never!), and when her next "well check" was (seemed like every damn day!). In the hospital, I even have the memory of Joe trying to capture a shot of her eyes just so that we could send Grandma and Grandpa Kopp in Nebraska proof that she did, in fact, have 'em.

But now she's a big 14-month-old who hardly sleeps. OK, that's not entirely true. She's actually a pretty good napper, BUT we don't bother trying to get pictures of her sleeping anymore.

Until this afternoon. 

For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep on the way home from Gramma Kate's. I opened the windows when we got home so that we could both savor the breeze blowing outside, and I settled in on the couch to get some work done. But then I looked at my baby (or toddler, if you want to really get into semantics) sleeping in the carrier that she's almost too tall for, and I grabbed the camera.

Her hands are just too perfect.

Her toes are just too kissable.

Her cheeks are just too soft.

Her lashes are just too long.

And these moments are just too fleeting.

But I could never love her too much.

When in Doubt

Yesterday evening Charlie was uncharacteristically cranky. Really, she's such a happy kiddo most of the time that when she is a little off her game I just don't know what to do to help. She was walking around whining and whimpering, which made me want to walk around and do a little whining myself.

Then I had a light bulb moment. After origami-ing myself into the Moby Wrap, I scooped her up and bundled her like I used to when she was itty-bitty. We turned on her favorite song, danced two and a half times through it, and she was out.

I had no idea that there was a whole "attachment parenting" movement before I had Charlie, but I cannot recommend enough that every new parent invest in some sort of sling or carrier. For me, it's instinctive: you want to soothe, you want them close, but frankly, you also wouldn't mind having your hands free to do very important things. Like blog. And push buttons on the zapper.

And really, how sweet is this? I swear I can smell her sweet baby breath through the computer.

And that last one? I love that matter-of-fact, just-woke-up, let-me-see-what-you're-doing-before-I-decide-whether-or-not-I-want-to-go-back-to-sleep face.

It's not as cute on me, though.

New routines (or the lack thereof)

Just about every email I've ever received from all of the parenting newsletters I've subscribed to have mentioned how important routine is to lil' ones. That's fine and dandy, but we're hardly a family of routine followers. The only ones in the house who truly seem to stick to a schedule are the cats, but even they have to sometimes just give up and wait a bit longer for breakfast. Or dinner. Or treats. Huh. I may have just figured out why they're so fat.

So, yes, routines are nice, but we're not good at them.

Enter last week and the beginning of a big ol' new routine: the morning trek to Gramma and Grandpa's house.

Since Charlie's birth, we'd been very lucky to have Gramma come to our house to take care of her. Except for a few days when Gramma's broken ankle complicated her driving across town to get to us, Charlie was able to sleep in, spend the morning in her jammies, and generally just relax. It was time to start dropping her off at G&G's, though, so that meant that we needed a plan. Preparation. And God forbid, a new routine.

This, of course, is not a big deal for all of the parents out there who have long managed to drop their babes at daycare and still get to work on time, but for us this was like a major life change. Perhaps even more so than the actual addition of a child to our home. There was grumbling from both parents. There was negotiation of who would drop of (Daddy) and who would pick up (Mommy). There were lists of take-with-Charlie items to be scratched out. There was the laying-out of the clothes she would wear in the morning. There was diaper bag stocking. (We still haven't managed the transition of cloth dipes to Gramma's house, but it's a'comin!) There was figuring out how to get the dishes done and the trash out in the middle of the new morning hustle. There was mapping out a morning schedule that would time everything just-so and get Daddy and Charlie out the door. And, while I'm at it, there was prepping Mommy's work bags, milk pump, and water bottle so that she could be on time, too.

Again, so not a big deal for most, but good grief! We are clearly not most.

One thing I hadn't really prepared for, though, was Charlie's reaction. Most mornings we've had to wake her up to get her ready to go, and each morning I've thought to myself, "Well, this isn't going to go well." But each morning she's stretched and popped up with a smile. She's laughed and kicked her feet while I wedge her socks and shoes on. She's grinned and whispered, "Bampa," after I ask her if she's ready to go see Gramma and Grandpa. She's dutifully grabbed a toy to take with her, happily reached for Daddy who loads her into his car, and even waved as they drive away.

She's been wonderful.

And you know whose house is trashed at the end of the day? Not mine! (Sorry, Gramma.)

14 months

Charlie is 14 months old today... or one year, two months, but at this age it's still easier to just count the total in months, isn't it? (Let's see, that would make me 399 months old. Ooh, that means a big celebration in April!)

Anyway, 14 months old, and she's just amazing. I'm sure I'm not supposed to think anything less than that, but really, I'm just awed by her. And there have been so many times since I started this little bloggy thing that I've thought to myself, wow, I should write a post about that, but then I don't have appropriate photos to go with my story, or the video includes a gratuitous crotch-shot of Daddy's khakis, so I forgo it, and suddenly I don't have any memories written down to share with Charlie later. Boo.

So, with that in mind, here's a list of wonderful 14-month-old things that she does that I simply don't want to forget:

• She loves pink. I don't know where she got it, but she's shown me on several shopping trips that it's her preferred color. She'll walk up to a display of something like, say, backpacks, and reach around the blue and yellow ones to get to the pink one. I deliberately tried to avoid over-pinking her when she was itty-bitty. Her wardrobe is my coloring book. But pink, bright pink: she digs it. (Oh, and she also likes green.)
• She's funny. I mean intentionally funny. She'll go out of her way to include herself in the laughter if Joe and I get going, but she'll also do silly things, giggling all the while just waiting for us to start laughing, too... enter the mixing bowl.
• We have a big, plastic mixing bowl that she's fond of digging out of the cupboard. It's white with black rubber on the bottom to keep it from slipping, and it has a pleasant weight to it. And apparently it feels good on your head. Charlie will pick it up and put over her face like a helmet - completely obscuring her sight - and walk around with her arms out like Frankenstein, laughing hysterically. The rubber absorbs most of the impact when she walks into things. Which she does. A lot. And we all laugh, so she does it again.
• She signs. Really, she has two main signs, more and milk, though she uses "more" (we say "more, please," in case you were wondering) as "all done" as well. I call it her ALOHA of signs because you really have to pay attention to context to figure out what she's saying. In reality, the sign involves tapping your closed fingers together, but we've seen kids do it with their fists, too. Charlie has her own version: one open hand, one fist, tapped together in a sort of circle, which I think evolves from pat-a-cake's "roll it" motion. It's fabulous, and she uses it liberally.
• She'll tell you (if she's in the mood) what a duck says, what an owl says, and most recently, what a horse says, but instead of neighing, she goes for a more realistic whinny. (Thanks, Grandpa.)
• She says Mama, Daddy, kitty, cat, kitty-cat (yeah, that's her favorite), duck, bath, and Grandpa. (That last one is much to Gramma Kate's chagrin.)
• She'll also repeat a lot of words if you ask her to, but the one that she's really latched on to - and uses on her own - is pretty. She'll now grab hold of my necklace and whisper, "Pretty."

And I think she is.


(See? No new photos.)

Charlotte, Mommy loves you.

Delightful!

Yes, delightful because you get to hear six uninterrupted seconds of giggles and squeals at the end of this clip along with the cutest QUACK-ing you've ever heard. But it's also a bit horrifying because you get to see the chaos in our living room. (And then there's that "Blair Witch" cinematography thanks to budding filmmaker, Charlie. Sorry, you've been warned.) 

Oh well, the laugh is worth it!


And for the record, I try to clean up and keep the floors clear of tripping hazards, but there's this almost-14-month-old who keeps going behind me quite literally undoing everything I've tidied. She's very efficient. And a bit of a daredevil. 


Also, the television is OFF! I failed to mention in that NickJr post that we read too. I dare say she has more favorite books than TV shows, so at least there's that.


OK, I'm gonna go watch while she destroys the kitchen now.

Adventures in art... sort of

It was an incredibly beautiful weekend, so what better way to celebrate than by christening our sidewalk with a brand new box of 20 fresh Crayola chalk crayons? Charlie's first, I might add. I was super excited, just waiting and watching that box on top of the fridge. She couldn't have cared less, but she also didn't know the magic that a pretty day was going to bring us. (She's also around two and a half feet tall, so it's really hard to see the top of anything.)


Anyway, pretty day... freshly napped... Daddy ready for a break from organizing the office... the perfect time to get our graffiti on!


Or not.


The way I wanted it to go:

The way it actually went:

But who cares! How cute is this?

Seriously, those overalls? Those leg-warmers? I think they're worth a post in and of themselves. (And I kind of want them in my size.) 

We watch a LOT of NickJr.

Sure, we try to squeeze in "Sesame Street" and even some "Mickey Mouse Playhouse" from time to time. (I've also heard rumors of Barney rearing his ugly, purple head, but that doesn't happen on my watch.) NickJr, however, is king of the TV in our house.

Moose, a slightly-animated yellow guy, and his friend Zee act as hosts between the shows, and Charlie has long loved them. I mean, she really loves them. She knows when shows are wrapping up and will get excited because Moose is coming on. Seriously. She doesn't even watch most of the programs; they're just background noise to her playing. Queue the closing credits, though, and she'll pay attention. And that's fine because Moose actually teaches things like numbers and letters and manners and how to approach strange dogs. All very important things, clearly.

We like him so much that we even made him the top of Charlie's first birthday cake:

So there's Moose, but more recently, there's also "The Fresh Beat Band." Oh, dear God, The Fresh Beat Band. I am not exaggerating a single bit when I say that EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. I wake up with one Fresh Beat song or another stuck in my head. They are the soundtrack to my sleep. My head will be humming about friends giving friends a hand, or how I suddenly have loco legs. I used dream about faraway places. Now I dream about a fictional smoothie stand and all of its flavors - sung in my head, of course. (Wiggly, giggly watermelon, anyone?)

But I don't mind. Why? Because of how much she adores their closing number. They always end with the same song and the same dance, and Charlie will come running over to me any time she hears those opening bars, begging to be scooped up for our own dance. I'm getting pretty good at these moves, too, even with only one arm free. (The other has to hold a spellbound baby, of course.)

Here's The Fresh Beat Band performing her favorite song live. I guess we should commend them for not lip-synching?

And here's Charlie tuning in to the fact that the TV show is ending and her song is near. Look at that build-up! (I especially like the here-I'll-just-sit-and-wait-for-it pause.)

Really, wouldn't you like (OK, tolerate) them, too, just to see that face?

She is her mother's daughter: give her a song and dance number and we're good-to-go! I sense some elaborately choreographed afternoons in our future. Oh, "Annie," she's gonna love you!

A delayed birthday tradition-to-be

Going into Charlie's first birthday I started getting a bevy of emails from all of the newsletters I subscribe to with all sorts of great ideas about how I should mark my bebe's big day. Good grief. In the middle of all of the useless (to me anyway) ideas, there was one I could actually get behind: put a special shirt on your little one and take a picture. Next year on her birthday and each year to come, put the same shirt on her and snap another picture to really mark her growth. That one I liked!

Fast forward to Charlie's actual birthday, January 25th.

Fast forward again to Charlie's 13-month birthday, February 25th.

Sure, it was a month late, but so what? We went for it! I looked around for a shirt that could be her special look-how-big-I-am-now photo, but I didn't really like any of the ones I saw online. Then I thought, why purchase a kids' shirt for her to grow in to when I could use one of my own... you know, something big enough to really torture her with for YEARS. Enter a very cool Beatles t-shirt that Joe gave me for one of our first Valentine's Days together. Vintage-look, great band that she simply has to adore, and a special meaning and connection to Mom and Dad. Perfect!

Too bad the thing looks enormous on her - but wait, there's always next year!


Let it be? Nope, not me!








 

Just a quick post... mostly in photos

I'm short on time, but not on love. Charlie started hugging this week. This is just the most fun!

Want a hug?

That Mother-Daughter Magic

My mom and I have always had this sort of telepathic/psychic connection. 


No, really, it's true!


Exhibit A: This was when we still lived in Michigan, so I wasn't more than four. I had spent the day with Grandma Rose, my mom's mom. (I don't remember what we did, but for the sake of this post let's just assume that we baked a six-tier wedding cake for our own enjoyment and then graffiti-ed the side of the house with the leftover icing and sprinkles.) Driving home with my mom, she was quietly thinking about her mom. I guess Grandma had looked a little frail or tired that day, and it worried Mom. She hadn't said anything out loud, but I suddenly burst into tears with, "I don't want Grandma to die!" Weird, right?


Exhibit B: In second grade, my parents went on a ski trip. I stayed home. Mom thought that she should buy me a little something to make up for the crushing guilt of leaving me, her sweet little angel, behind show me how much she missed me. She selected this heart-shaped, decorative tape dispenser. It was pink with diagonal lines in shade of blue and purple. At the exact same time, I was in school coloring. Coloring what? A big heart that I had drawn diagonal lines on in shades of pink, purple, and blue.


Skip ahead a couple decades...


Exhibit C: Just today as Charlie and I were getting ready to leave Gramma's, I was sitting on the floor gathering our things. (OK, I was changing a diaper.) Apropos nothing, I almost blurted out, "No, I didn't watch 'American Idol' last night." Almost, meaning I didn't actually say anything. But what did Mom actually say? "Well, it's the second night of Hollywood Week on 'Idol.'" Half telepathic-half verbal conversation. Cool!


So you see, there's a pretty strong connection between the women in my family. Charlie is the first-born daughter of a first-born daughter to a first-born daughter. I already feel that deep, almost vibrating pull between us. 


Like last night while I was snuggling her to sleep. 


The room was dark and quiet, but she was still awake. It was one of those perfect moments where I could see a little glimpse into our future, one where we whisper to each other about things like the best parts of our days after we read our favorite bedtime stories. I was pretty sure that Charlie could feel that magic connection, that she could sense something profound in the room.


And then she farted.

Eat it.

Yesterday Charlie and I slept late, all the way to nearly quarter to 8:00! Sure, that means a later morning nap time, but it also means happy, smiling, smooshy baby cheeks and extra-wild bed head. 

Surprisingly, it also inspired the feeling that breakfast should be made at home instead of purchased at Bruegger's. (Don't get me wrong, though - we love our Bruegger's! So much so that the Christmas gift of a bottomless coffee cup from the cats has probably already paid for itself. And it's only February. Mmmm... coffee. Even if it is decaf.)


But today we decided we had plenty of good things just waiting to be made edible, so we did. I made what were easily the best scrambled eggs I've ever cracked, toast with fruit preserves, and a cup of yogurt, all for my little monkey. Even the coffee I brewed was just right. (I can't vouch for Joe's Via, though.) 


And Charlie? Well, she enjoyed her water. And Mommy's everything bagel with cream cheese. 

Oh well.

At least there was sunshine...

And new Chucks!