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 ...

too funny not to share

The quality isn't the best -- it's an iPhone photo of a library book, but I think you'll get the gist of it. With props to Harvey Karp, MD and his book "Happiest Toddler on the Block," I present to you concrete, scientific evidence behind the reason for my exhaustion:
If you can't read the legend, it says "Seven clocked minutes of nursery school behavior at different ages." See the upper right-hand box that's circled? Yeah. That's the trajectory of a mere SEVEN MINUTES in the life of an 18-month-old. I was reading in bed when I came across this graphic and laughed (silently, of course, so as not to wake Olivia) until I had tears streaming down my face. It's so true. I would love to strap a little GPS on her so I could see her (probably very similar to the above graphic, if not even more madcap) path at the end of the day.

it's getting harder to blog ...

... with a toddler running all over the place. I remember the days of typing on my laptop while a tiny 9-pound Olivia snoozed on my chest. These days, I'm lucky if she gets a nap in, period. She's go go go all the time, which I hear is normal for this age. ;)

I've been trying to get her outside more, but given her hatred of having sunscreen applied, we're usually limited to a quick after-dinner sandbox visit. I have to admit that her sandbox makes me a little twitchy: between her trying to sample some of the grainy goodness and flinging it in the air so it coats her hair, eyelashes, and every square inch of her skin, it's just such a mess. Who knew I could be OCD about messes?

I think all of my readers know this already, but I'm pregnant (due date: 12/15/2009). First trimester fatigue + toddler = pure survival mode, so part of the reason for my scarce blogging as of late is because I usually tumble into bed the minute Olivia hits her crib for a nap. The second trimester is just around the corner, so I'm hoping that once that milestone hits I'll be feeling a bit more like myself, taking more photos again, etc.

If you haven't checked it out yet, watch Olivia spell her name. Pretty darn good for a 15-month-old if I do say so myself! Here are a few pictures of her playing in her sandbox (Daddy's idea) this week.

where oh where did my sweet girl go?

Can the terrible twos arrive at 15 months? siiiiiiiiigh. We've hit a bit of a rough patch lately with our darling Miss Olivia.

She's learned that she has a lot of very strong opinions about things in her life:

diaper changes = bad
riding in wagon = awesome
evil parents removing her from said wagon = very, very bad
bathtime = awesome
evil parents removing her from bathtub = injustice of all injustices
splashing in the cat bowl = rocks!
mean mommy taking cat bowl away = fuh-huh-reakout time

And so on and so forth. Thus my posting hiatus. I've been slightly exhausted by the hysterics and haven't wanted to post until I could muster up a little humor first.

But at least she's still cute, and I know you want photos, so here you go!

her new sweet ride:

first bath in the big tub without her inflatable duck baby tub -- she LOVED it. Splash city.

off to the races

Olivia is walking about 98% of the time now, and she seems to be quite tickled by her newfound skills. She often squeals/shrieks when she walks, sometimes pumping alternating fists in the air, reveling in her sheer magnificence. It's pretty hilarious, if I do say so myself -- this kid is spunky. She occasionally breaks into a brisk walk/run, usually when she's headed for something she knows is verboten. You should be able to see the latest video of her practicing her strut using the video link on the left side.

So, I broke down and joined a moms' group about a month ago. While there, you leave your kids in their childcare room so you can -- gasp! -- have uninterrupted, adult conversation without having to shoo grabby hands away from your food, jump up and chase your offspring who is inevitably teetering toward something perilous, or give a brief seminar on No, We Don't Pick Our Noses In Public; It's Gross. Olivia does not like being left in the childcare room, as you can imagine. All of the ladies in there are sweet as pie, but apparently 14 months is prime separation anxiety time and she doesn't care how nice they are -- she does NOT want to be there. I end up practically jogging down the hall, fingers in ears, la-la-la-ing to myself so I don't have to hear the plaintive wails of "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-ma! MAMA!" (translation: "Get your fool ass back here, woman!")

As you can imagine, between Gymboree and the childcare room (a.k.a. Places Babies Can Put Filthy Toys In Their Mouths For Fun), Miss Olivia has had quite the streak of colds for the last month. She handles it like a champ, but is still not a fan of having her nose wiped. The blue hospital-issue bulb sucker thingy? Yeah, that's a no go. So out of sheer desperation, enter the Nosefrida.

Uh, yeah. I'm (sadly) serious. I mocked this very device last year on a message board. I picture the scenario playing out like this:

Mom: Hey, baby! You know what would be super fun? I'm going to put a HOSE in my MOUTH and use it to suck your boogers out! Are you ready?

baby: Uh, lady? This seems like a very bad idea for many reasons.

Mom: Here we go!

baby: *throws arms up in surrender, mouth agape with terror*

Here's the rub: the thing is actually recommended by her pediatrician, so I'm going to give it a go. The website assures me that no baby boogs will even make it up into the hose, never mind my mouth, so we shall see (it's on order -- you know I'll be updating with results if I can ever get up the courage to use it).

The Nosefrida is probably second on my list of Creepiest Baby Products Ever. Coming in at #1 is the Zaky:

See how that baby is sleeping with his eyes slightly cracked open? I would too if two giant, limbless, 1970s-pantyhose-nude bean bag hands were hovering over my cranium and butt.

the maternal instinct kicks in early

And yeah, that is a bottle. I'm a wimp, you see. A wimp whose child's cries of "BA-BA! BAAAAA! BAAAAAAAAAA!" could be used as a Waco-style audio torture method should I ever choose to hole myself up in a house and refuse to come out. Ba-ba will go bye-bye ... soon.

a few days shy of 14 months old ...

She's finally getting the hang of this walking thing!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYH0di_5LDU

She also learned how to raise her hands above her head and yell "TA DAAAA!" when she's proud of herself about something. If only adults could do that without looking odd ...