new teeth

Olivia had her big dentist appointment today. I almost cancelled it at the last minute, because the pediatric dentist's policy is not to allow parents in the back while they're doing lengthy treatments and I thought it would be way too traumatic for Olivia. I'd been dreading it for weeks.


As it turned out, it was mostly traumatic --- for me. She said "mama!" a couple of times when the dental assistant came out to get her, and apparently cried for a couple of minutes, but then settled down and was a total trooper for the rest of her appointment (which lasted almost 2 hours). They cleaned her teeth, applied a sealant, and then covered the teeth with plastic veneers to protect them from decay and make them look more like her teeth did pre-ceramic tile accident.


The dentist and her assistants talked about ice cream a lot during the appointment, and Olivia's reaction was always, "mmmm!" or "num num!" each time they mentioned it. (They gave us a coupon for a free ice cream cup at Chik-Fil-A that we redeemed on the way home.) She also apparently told them that we already had our Christmas tree up and that the lights were blue. She may have been thinking about helping me put up the outdoor lights over the weekend, though who knows!

They gave her a stuffed bear wearing an "I love my dentist" shirt, and she carried it around for most of the day. The only thing she says about her appointment is that the dentist looked at her teeth and that they're clean and shiny. So ... lifetime trauma averted, I think.


Before:


After:

seriously slacking - 36 weeks

I'm 36 weeks pregnant today, which means 4 weeks left (if I'm lucky). I alternate between wanting to get it over with already and wanting to keep this kid in forever so nothing changes. I've become accustomed to not being able to bend over and breathe at the same time, to the unpredictable, sharp stabbing pains that occasionally shoot from my back to my hip down my leg, causing me to suddenly lurch forward like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. This random pain doesn't care if I'm at home, trying to carry a 25-pound toddler up the stairs, or merely strolling around at Target minding my own business.

What I'm no longer accustomed to is an hour of straight sleep being considered a luxury. All the various discomforts of recovering from a 40-week gestational process in which a human being ... you know, comes out of your body. The profuse sweating that ensues upon hearing a tiny little baby screaming and screaming for no reason. Thinking that your breast pump talks to you.

These days, I wake up around 3am with a strange desire to go downstairs and vacuum the kitchen floor. I often worry about how we're going to permanently ruin Olivia's life and how she's still just a baby and needs our attention.

But I'm sure that just like I did with Olivia, I'll muddle through somehow. I'll get used to not sleeping again, though hopefully it won't be a year-long stretch this time around. I'll wear the dark undereye circles as badges of honor. If nothing else, maybe people will take pity and come over bearing coffee.

miscellaneous cuteness

Just jotting these down so I don't forget:


"I hear wick-wick!" (music)

da-der-roo = kangaroo

makey da play-doh (makey da brown rabbit, makey da chicken eggs, makey da pink OE)

bite of water

_______ very tasty! (most recently, I was in the shower and heard her saying, "Mmm! Ice cream cone very tasty! Num num!" When I peeked around the shower curtain, I saw her with a (closed) jar of Mentholatum in her mouth. Ack.)

soooooo many birds!


daddy pick it up now

21 months old: first time out

I need to start by saying that Olivia is officially 21 months old as of 11/7! I missed taking pictures last weekend, even. Along those lines, I can sort of tell that she's inching closer to being 2 years old these days. Case in point:

She had her very first (and surely not even close to the last) time out on Monday. I gave her a bowl of mac and cheese with a few peas mixed in -- this girl has GOT to learn to eat veggies! -- and after a few bites, she promptly started throwing her food everywhere: against the garage door, into her play area in the dining room, and even managed to get some from the dining room into the kitchen. I asked her to stop, I counted to three ... and she kept doing it. And laughing. And then smacked my hands away when I tried to remove the bowl of offending food. Yeah, Mommy don't play that.

I told her she was going to have a time out because we don't throw our food and it's bad manners. I turned her booster chair facing the door, set the microwave timer for a minute, and waited.

There was an acknowledgement of the wrongdoing: "Noooooooo throwing food. Noooooo."

Then the anger phase set in: "DOWN NOW! DOWN! NOW!" she screamed in a voice that sounded straight out of a scene from The Exorcist.

And finally, our first spousal disagreement about discipline. He thought I was being too hard on her and that she didn't know why she was in time out. I told him 1 minute in a chair wasn't going to kill her, and besides, maybe it was ME who needed a time out.