a quick cute thing

Olivia has the cutest new thing she's doing lately. When she wants something, she'll say this:

"mooooore nana? ah-dey!" translation: more banana? ok!

It's like she's asking and answering her own question. Hilarious.

She's also been known to say "More ba-booey (Veggie Booty, her new fave snack)? Ah-dey!" and "Baby (Baby Signing Time, either the songs in the car or the DVD)? Ah-dey!"

baseball or bust: bust

When I heard that Dan's favorite MLB team, the Cincinnati Reds, were playing on Father's Day, I knew what his present was going to be. He's been talking about wanting to go to a game for a long time -- pretty much since Olivia was born -- and I thought FD would be a perfect day for him to take her to her first major league game. I photoshopped a Reds hat onto a picture of O, wrote a cheesy poem about the game, printed it out and stuck it in an SQL Server study book of his that I wrapped up. You should have seen the confusion on his face when he opened it. "SQL Server? Wha--? Uh ... I already have this." Heh.

Through a great connection from a friend (thanks, J!), we were able to get all-inclusive club seats -- we're talking unlimited (oh yeah!) hot dogs, pizza, hamburgers, nachos, fountain drinks, and even pasta with breadsticks or stir fry -- in the shade (a must when you have a baby or are as fair as yours truly) for a steal. The drive is only 2 hours and was pretty much a piece of cake, except that O didn't nap as planned on the way there. Strike one. Actually, make that strike two: strike one would be that she basically refused to eat breakfast, so she was off her game from the start.

It was a bit of hike from the parking garage to the ballpark, but once we got there it was easy to pick up our tickets and find the suites. When we first arrived, I thought maybe we were in the wrong place. It was air conditioned! And did I mention the all-you-can-eat food? Our seats were just a few rows down from the a/c food paradise, so we went and sat down to check them out. No one else was in our row, and we were right on the aisle. Perfect! Except that Olivia was NOT impressed.

Our view:

Olivia's reaction to our view:

I like to call this photo, "Meh." Approximately 1.2 seconds after this photo was taken, all hell broke loose. She commenced with flailing and screaming the likes of which I have never seen before, along with her world-famous sudden limp arm maneuver (SLAM) I may have mentioned previously. Walking with her down the row only served to make her more angry, as I wouldn't let go of her hand so she could fling herself on the sticky ground, eat discarded peanut shells, or catapult herself over the chairs and tumble down the rows below us. I'm SO mean.

I decided it was a good time to let Dan watch a little baseball, so off we went to explore the a/c suite. Translation: I was hungry. I grabbed a hot dog for us to share (Olivia's verdict: meh) and managed to keep her on my lap for most of the time it took me to scarf it down. Then she wanted to run around. The problem was that she had taken off her shoes during Tantrum 1.0 in our seats, so we had to go retrieve them. Enter tantrum 2.0. This was a full upgrade tantrum, you see. Not just mere whining, but eardrum-bursting screaming and actual tears. I felt people beginning to stare.

We went back in the suite, but between carrying the diaper bag and my camera bag and trying to hold her very unwilling-to-be-held hand, I was having a rough time. Enter something I swore I would never use until I had a child: the harness. This:

Mean as it looks, it's actually pretty useful for helping to steer your teetering toddler. But wow, I couldn't believe the stares I was getting. Two of the hot dog vendors were alternating between whispers and staring at us, so I sort of laughed and told them hey, I used to think these were crazy, but you have to do what you have to do (translation: quit staring and serve up some hot dogs, ladies). They said they were debating this issue; one was pro-harness, the other, con. Whatever. I didn't have time to get into it, because Miss O was on the go.

I tried to placate her with a piece of pizza. After one bite, she kicked her foot up on the table, somehow managed to flip the pizza off the plate cheese-side down on the table, then use her sauce-covered shoe to kick me in several places while screaming and trying to get off my lap. She resisted my efforts to clean us both up. The crying escalated and seemed to echo in the suite. People at tables all around us were staring -- only a few faces were sympathetic. I tried reasoning with her. Begging. Bribing with her favorite snacks. No dice. So I did what any normal, calm, level-headed parent would do in that situation.

I cried.

I managed to keep the tears at bay as I gathered up our stuff while barely managing to hold Olivia's arm as she flung herself to the ground dramatically. We walked around and looked out the windows at the boats on the river, and her crying (as well as my desire to fling myself to the ground and sob) slowly started to diminish. Then I saw Dan come in, and I lost it. He was coming in from outside to say that we should probably head home, bless him. That was without knowing that he'd just missed the upgrade to Tantrum 3.0. He was happy he got to see a couple of innings and got a hot dog. I was happy that he was happy, though the disappointment in my big fun surprise not go as planned still stings a little. I guess no one ever said that having kids is fun all of the time. :P

To sum it up:

Tickets: $40
Garage parking: $12

Hours driven: 4

Innings viewed: 3

Free food consumed: 2 hot dogs, 1 order nachos, 1 coke, 1 water, 1 bag peanuts, 1 bite cheese pizza

Tears shed: many

Still, according to Dan, having Olivia conk out on his shoulder as we fled the ballpark for our car was priceless.

evil, wonderful TV

This has been a big week for Olivia -- big because I've allowed her to watch more television than she's probably seen in her entire lifetime thus far.

I went to bed "early" (10:30 p.m.) Monday night with a headache and feeling strangely exhausted. Sometime around 3 a.m. I woke up and noticed that I had a stabbing headache -- the kind where it hurts to move your eyes in any direction and like a small ice pick may have somehow become lodged in your forehead. Tuesday morning brought more of the same, with bonus nausea, sweating and dizziness. I hadn't felt this bad with both pregnancies combined. Something was seriously amiss.

The morning routine of changing O's diaper, carrying her downstairs and putting her in her high chair felt like Herculean tasks. Her breakfast yogurt was overly fragrant and caused me to cover my neck in cold, wet paper towels in the hopes of taming some of the nausea. The normally adorable sounds of her beating on her high chair tray and jibber-jabbering endlessly were causing my brain to ache and my vision to blur. She just wouldn't stop talking, and she doesn't just talk to herself. She says one word over and over, at increasing volume, until you repeat back the word she's saying. I wasn't up for it that morning.

Enter TV. Normally I save it for emergencies, particularly fussy/restless days, or for when I need to clip her nails without hysterics. The Baby Signing Time series absolutely mesmerizes her, and she does learn from it. But lately, we (read: me) have become reeeeeeally tired of the songs, as well as of Miss O's insistence that we play the songs in the car (which she "suggests" with loud shrieks of "Baby? Baby! Baby! BABY! BAY-BEEEEEEE!" over and over and over until we comply). So over the last week or so, I've been trying to wean her from the DVDs so that we don't lose our sanity during an upcoming road trip.

But on this day, I broke into the arsenal. I didn't feel well enough to care. All four DVDs of Baby Signing Time were played. Several episodes of Jack's Big Music Show were screened for her viewing pleasure as well. During this time, I was horizontal on the couch, moaning and watching my temperature creep up into the 100s. My mom came by with Sprite and McDonald's biscuits, and Olivia barely acknowledged her presence. She was in the zone.

I just hope she didn't lose too many IQ points during her day with the evil, wonderful television.

shiner

I knew it would happen eventually. See her left eyelid? The photos I took don't accurately convey the redness or puffiness of the injury, but in true Olivia style, she doesn't seem to notice.

The culprit?

Apparently the guitar on the Fisher Price Little Superstar Jammin' Band (got all that?) not only plays some mean licks, but also gives you a good licking should you happen to, say, stumble on a pile of books on the floor and then fall on top of it ... with your eye.

Speaking of injuries, Olivia is obsessed with "ouch" and "owie" lately. She fell a few weeks ago and scraped her knee, and even after it healed is still pointing to it, saying "ouch!" and then doing the sign for hurt. She also likes to point out other people's owies as well: "mama owie! awwwwwww."

1, 2, 3, 9, i

Olivia has started counting a little, which she probably picked up from me using "1-2-3" as a countdown for picking her up, tickling her belly, or whatever. But when you ask her to count and start at one, she'll follow with twoooooo, fweeeee, niiiiiiine, and then sometimes throw in a jubilant "i!" at the end. It's pretty hilarious. She still likes to spell her name, but she still won't say the L.

She also just started using two-word sentences today out of the blue. Stuff like "Elmo diaper," "nice baby," and "bye-bye TV." Oh, and this is slightly embarrassing to admit, but we went through a drive-thru this morning and she said, "EAT!" Oops.

16 months!

Actually, it was yesterday and bad mom that I am, I forgot to come on and post about it.

Olivia had her 16-month well-baby visit today. As I predicted, she was not happy about it. The "oh noooooo"s started as soon as we were lead into the examining room, and tears began the moment Dr. Jim walked in. Thankfully, he's pretty unfazed by her flailing/screaming/tears/hysterics. She thankfully skipped the guttural screaming that occurred the last time she was there -- I thought her head might spin around at any moment.

She only gained a pound since her 1-year checkup, so she weighed in at 22 pounds 8 ounces (40th percentile), but she's still going strong in the vertical growth department, measuring 34" (98th percentile). Two inches short of three feet tall at 16 months old ... pretty impressive, but not surprising given some of the serious height on my dad's side of the family.

Once she calmed down, Olivia proudly spelled her name for Dr. Jim, and he declared it "Very impressive. No, wait -- that would be very impressive for a 2-year-old." He noticed how verbal she is and said that she seems to be ahead of the curve for her language skills. That was about it.

She got two vaccines, one in each leg, and wasn't a big fan of that either. I was probably more traumatized than she was, really. We stopped at Burger King on the way home so I could get some comforting fries and a frozen Coke for me, and some tasty mac and cheese and apple slices for Miss O. And no, I didn't share my ruh-ryes. :)

a new word to add to the list

word #69 on the "Olivia's Words" spreadsheet I've been keeping: french fry.

Yeah. I shouldn't be surprised that she knows this word, but it still caught me a little off guard. I had a craving for Arby's and grabbed some curly fries with my roast beef. She's never seen curly fries before, yet when I sat down to eat (cutting up a healthy apple for her), she started yelling: "ruh-rye! ruh-rye! ruh-ryeeeeeeeeee!" I gave in and let her have a small bite -- now she says, "Noooooooooo" in her cute little semi-question way when I try to give her apple, then resumes her ruh-rye chant.

Like mother, like daughter ...