Breanna has been working on steps all day. This afternoon she made it for six steps in a row. There is something surreal about my nine-month-old baby stepping with that funny lurch, heading for my open arms while she chants, “Mama Mama Mama” at me.
Good lord.
I need a mojito.
On Sunday, Breanna hit the nine month mark. I don’t even know how that happened. She’s changed so much since she was born in November.
I only vaguely remember, thanks to pictures, that she once looked like this:
Or like this:
And these days she looks like this:
She’s doing so much now. She crawls like a pro, getting from one place to another so quickly that I sometimes have to run to catch up to her before she gets into something she should stay away from. She plays peek-a-boo, either by crouching behind the safety gate and popping back up again with a smile, or by peering over the couch. She started taking steps over the past couple of days; tonight she realized what she was doing and kept shrieking and laughing, getting herself all revved up over the excitement of almost walking. ALMOST WALKING. AUGH!
I was right about the food situation; she just wasn’t fond of the texture. We started giving her some table foods and her interest in actually eating just exploded. She’ll eat bite-sized pieces of chicken, pork, mango (oh, she loves the mango), apple, banana, peas, bagel, cheese, puff cereal, pasta, and will now even eat applesauce. She doesn’t eat a ton at once, not as much as Hayley did at this age, but she eats and enjoys it, and it makes meal time much more bearable since she’s a participant instead of just being an observer trapped in a high chair.
She laughs frequently, but nothing makes her laugh as much as Hayley. I have a great video to upload later of Hayley chasing after her with monster growls, and Breanna is just cracking up. Tonight we had spaghetti and Hayley dangled a spaghetti noodle over her face like a crazy mustache. Before I could even open my mouth to ask her to stop playing with her food, Breanna looked over and started screaming with laughter. I foresee some interesting dinners for the next several years.
Other things she enjoys doing with Hayley include rolling a ball back and forth, following her big sister everywhere, playing tea party (though she perfers to chew on the tea pot spout rather than holding the cup), dancing, and sharing bath time.
She’s started doing something cute over the past week, something that I guess she picked up from me and from George. When she’s upset (and usually upset means either she’s tired, hungry, or I’ve left the room and triggered separation anxiety on a nuclear disaster level) and I pick her up, she wraps her arms around me and starts patting me on the back – the same way I pat her on the back to calm her down. It’s the sweetest thing.
She also tolerates kisses and even gives them if you hold her over your face, but every so often she takes the initiative and she’ll grab my chin or my mouth and pull me over, opens her mouth wide, and then she gives me a big slobbery baby kiss. I love it.
She responds to Breanna, Breebles, Brebleens, and Breeble-ina. She doesn’t pay much attention when I call her Puffin, but I still do it anyway. And when she’s annoying me I call her Bongo-Head; she ignores that too.
She still hates diaper changes with the fury of an explosion. Once in a blue moon I can distract her long enough with a remote or a funny song (she likes the Yeti song from the Backyardigans) but most often she just tries to flip over or twist away from me, eventually bursting into tears. She has an equal distaste for getting dressed, especially anything for the top half of her body. Pants aren’t so bad, but if I have to put anything over her head, she cries, and she thrashes angrily and wails when I put her arms through anything.
On Saturday she decided to have eight months finish off with a bang. The day before she had been lying in my nap nursing, except by “lying” I really mean she was twisting her body from left to right, trying to stand up, and generally fooling around. At one point she lost her balance and apparently pinned her arm under her own body. She cried momentarily but seemed fine. She was unsettled all evening and cried a lot when she woke up at night, but she was also in the process of teething, so I gave her Tempra and assumed that would be it.
In the early morning, around 6 am, she was crying and when I sat her up I noticed that she wasn’t using her left arm at all. When I tried to move it for her, she’d cry harder. George took Hayley to his parents’ house and we decided to take Breanna to the emergency room. Before leaving, I put her on the living room floor and we put the television remote, the phone, and George’s cell phone on the floor with her. They’re all things she can’t resist so she tried to crawl towards them but couldn’t put any weight on her arm at all, and she started crying so pitifully.
Although we spent four hours at the hospital (!) the fix was fast. The doctor said it was a popped ligament (I later found out it’s often referred to as nursemaid’s elbow) in her elbow and that it is something that happens frequently in young children. He assured us that we shouldn’t feel bad about it because it wasn’t our fault, and then he explained that he would twist her arm to pop it back in.
That part was awful. Her whole face turned red, and she opened her mouth in that dreaded silent scream; once she finally caught her breath, she just wailed. It was horrible. On the other hand, he was right – he told us she’d have her arm’s mobility back 100% within a couple of minutes, and as soon as she stopped crying, she was lifting her arm up, holding George’s cell phone, and back to her normal self. By the time we got home, she was completely fine. I put her down and within a few minutes I had to put the gate up again to keep her out of the kitchen because after only a brief hesitation, she was back to crawling at top speed again. The only proof of her ordeal was the bracelet on her wrist, the bruising from the doctor on her elbow, and her utter exhaustion as she passed out on George.
Then that night, despite a late nap, she was so tired she looked like this, and then went to sleep within five minutes of bedtime.
Still, quick fix or not, I’d prefer to avoid going through it again, thanks.
It’s just all going so fast. I thought it went quickly with Hayley but it’s even worse this time because with two of them to take care of, time flies by at an unbelievable pace (except on bad days where I just want it to be bedtime; those days drag on forever). I can’t believe she’s already nine months old. We just came home this time nine months ago.
I can’t believe that she once fit so well in the crook of my arm like this:
And these days she most often does this:
Happy nine months Breebles.
For people who like to use information off my website against me, you should note that the camera phone I own was given to me for free from Matchstick, a buzz marketing company in exchange for promising to use the different features and to review it. I DID NOT BUY THE PHONE. The last time I turned my pockets inside out or shook my wallet upside down, $350+ did not fall out. I would not have bought the phone because it’s about $345 out of my budget.
If it seems implausible that someone would give me a phone for free, you can read about other people in Canada who have received the same deal from Matchstick such as Rannie (who also mentioned the criteria required to get one yourself right here) fellow Montrealer Long, and other Toronto folks like Kelly, Blaine, Sameer, and probably countless other lucky people if you search on Google for it.
I get over 400 hits a day and I fit their profile of bloggers that they were looking for to spread the word about the phone. And that is the only reason that I have it.
If people would like to continue taking things from my website, making assumptions, and holding it against me (or my family) in any way, their IP will be added to my blacklist and thus banned from reading this site. This website is a place for me to talk about how awesome my kids are, poke fun at my own life from time to time, and to express myself in a creative venue. Thanks to this blog I’ve been able to find the confidence to seek out publishing opportunities, something I might have not done in the past. Unfortunately for me, if keeping this site no longer becomes fun because of these people, I will just have to shut it down altogether because it’s frankly not worth the fucking hassle.
Sorry for the delay in getting the photo requests up. I was busy and intended to do them yesterday but I’ll post an entry later explaining why Saturday was not a stellar day. Here are requests from Heidi and Sueellen from the comments and from Elise who was shy and emailed me instead. Again, if you have any requests, please leave a comment here or send me an email. I really have a lot of fun doing this so I’d love to have more requests.
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Hayley had a dentist appointment today and she was incredible. There are days at home when she drives me up one wall and back down the other, but often she is a well-behaved girl in public. Today she was no exception. All around I could hear kids of all ages crying or yelling and Hayley just sat quietly in the chair, spoke politely with the dentist, and co-operated in every way. She even did well with having her x-rays done. I was pretty proud of her. She was also very proud of her gifts. She got a new toothbrush and the dentist was so pleased with her behaviour that she got out the “special” surprise box. Usually they give kids a couple of stickers or erasers, little things. Hayley ended up with a choice between a Barbie sticker album with stickers or a Dora bracelet. I was sure she’s go for the stickers but Dora won, and Hayley came home with a new accessory. She wouldn’t even take it off for bed.
Sometimes she’s such a big girl.
Breanna did well too. She’s teething and going through separation anxiety all at once (not to mention her neverending quest to walk and then rule the world), but I didn’t want to bring her in unless I really had to so that I could concentrate on Hayley. I left Breanna with George’s dad and she was pretty happy. He told me that first she sat in her carseat and laughed at him while he rocked her, and then she fussed so he picked her up and walked her around, showing her all the bright pictures. She was fine right up until a minute before I came out, at which point she missed me and started crying. I came out to the waiting room and heard her crying and saying, “Mamamamamama!”
And yes, she’s been saying “mama” for me and to me for about a week now. She started saying it awhile ago but now she attributes it to me. I hear it every time I leave the room unexpectedly, and she’ll start crawling madly after me, calling for me.
And if you keep reading, I have some videos up at YouTube. One is Breanna grooving and dancing to Aaron Pritchett’s “Hold My Beer” (I’m starting them young on the country music), and one is the crazy stuff that goes on in our home sometimes such as George, Breanna, and Hayley rocking out to Alice Cooper before bed. My camera phone doesn’t always get the best quality for video (although it does great pictures in good lighting; that picture up top was taken with my Nokia), but I think they’re enjoyable nonetheless.
Recently I was sent a copy of Why Moms Are Weird, the second novel by Pamela Ribon. You know. Pamie.
I read Squishy back when there were no blogs and everyone hand-coded their online journals and I loved her writing then. I loved her first novel, Why Girls Are Weird, and the way that she managed to take some of the best Squishy entries and fit them in the story (hello, tiny wooden hand, I am looking at you and waving). When I knew her newest novel was out, I was very excited.
Why Moms Are Weird is a fun read, the kind of book I wish I could have read all in one sitting, curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee and some snacks. It’s unfortunate that the kids would not agree to that, so it took me a little bit longer to read it all, but I enjoyed every page.
Benny lives on the opposite end of the country from her mom and sister, living her own life in California. She’s busy keeping the boys at bay to avoid the eventual heratbreak and working at a mediocre job when she simultaneously meets a great guy and gets a call informing her that her mother was in a car accident that broke her leg. Benny ditches the guy and flies home to live with her mother and sister temporarily in order to feel like she’s helping out. She ends up desperately trying to declutter her mther’s house, but discovers there’s more emotional and mental clutter than anything else.
The conflicts and misunderstandings are both bittersweet and incredibly hilarious. More than once I found myself laughing out loud and was relieved to be reading at home and not on public transit. But it’s not all funny and light. In between the giggles, you might find yourself thinking “I’ve been there” or “GOD I hope that never happens to me.” The choices Benny must face are believable and Pamie’s way of writing takes you right into the turmoil. One moment in particular was heartbreaking enough that I found myself near tears. Not everyone can write something that will make you laugh and cry in the same chapter.
I loved it. I know it’s one of those books that I will grab off my shelf again when I need something good to read.
Don’t be shy, go ahead and ask me for things you’d like me to take a picture of (of course they are subject to a big fat NO at my discretion). In the meantime, here are some of the first requests.
I thought I’d ressurect an old – but good – meme. Make a request, or two, or three, whatever of things you’d like me to take a picture of and I’ll post it.
Yes, I do need some inspiration. If you decide to do this meme on your own site, let me know and I’ll come check it out too.
Two days ago, Breanna started standing up without pulling up or holding onto anything, just crouching and then standing straight up.
Yesterday, she learned to clap (and I totally forgot how cute babies are when they start clapping).
Today, she is trying very hard to take a step without holding onto anything.
And *I* am freaking out.
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I was unloading some clean clothes from the dryer and I took one armful to the bedroom to fold later. When I came back, I found that Breanna had decided to help me out by yanking clothes out and tossing them on the floor. She’s starting young. Maybe by her first birthday I can teach her to wash dishes.
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“What do you mean I’m not supposed to fling them on the floor?”
