Saturday, July 16, 2005

This is me. This is me having a heart attack.

So, I'm sitting here trying to update the website (Let this story be a lesson to all of you who have been harrassing me about it. Suz. ), and Jaynie is running around the house. She comes by, gives me a brief "tickle tickle tickle", then runs away laughing. I know how this game works. I chase her down, (very gently, of course) throw her to the ground, and start tickling/kissing her. I notice she has her romper unsnapped, and when I go to chomp a thigh I make a very alarming discovery.

She is not wearing a diaper.

You read that right. The kid is running around naked from the waist down. When I could breathe again, I asked her "Jaynie? Where is your diaper?" and she said, and I quote, "Poop."

This was where I nearly had a heart attack.

I got a new diaper on her, snapped her up, went and got Joe, and we began the search. After about 10 min. he found a very wet, but thankfully poop-free, diaper. She had thrown it over the baby gate we have up that keeps her away from the kitchen trash. Holy cow. If she wanted a dry diaper, all she had to do was ask for it. Now, if you all will excuse me, I need to duct-tape her outfit closed, and finish updating the site.

Miss Sympathy

Last night Jaynie and I went to WalMart (an adventure in itself). While we were walking up and down the aisles we kept hearing a kid having an absolute nightmare of a fit. Every time he'd let out a yell Jaynie would look at me, and look around. We finally turn a corner and there they are - a very tired looking Mom with a screaming kid in the cart.

Screaming kid: "Waaaaaaaaaaah!"

Jaynie: (looking right into his face) "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Now - if you think I'm saying that she started crying, too, you are wrong. What she was doing was mocking him. I know this because immediately after the "wah" she looked at me and cracked up. This one is never going to be a peer counselor.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Monkey Girl

I've been calling the kid a monkey, but it occurs to me that she's really more like a baby Spiderman.

We had this house Jaynie-proofed. It was safe to leave her unattended in just about any room. Not that we left her alone a lot, but it was nice to occasionally go to the bathroom without an audience and not have to worry about what she was doing.

All that has changed, ever since she started moving around the house VERTICALLY.

She climbs anything and everything. She climbs the chairs to get on the dining room table. She climbs the bar stools to get on the kitchen counter. She climbs the futon to (attempt to) get on the windowsill where George is napping. Her greatest climbing feat, however, had to be the changing table.

She's in her room, Joe and I are in the dining room. I'm showing him the broken pieces of some cute little ceramic pots that she climbed up and destroyed earlier that day. I say to him "You should probably go see what she's up to right now - it's awfully quiet in there." and he says (naively) "She's in her room - she can't destroy anything."

A few minutes later he goes in and I hear "Jennifer? Why is her lotion on the floor?" Apparently, he found her squirting lotion onto her belly and rubbing it in (all the while, chanting "lotion! lotion!"), and assumed I had left it where she could reach. Well - I hadn't.

Me: "Ummmm... did she climb the changing table to get it?" (We keep lotions, ointments, wipes, etc on a little shelf that is mounted to the wall ABOVE the changing table. Seriously - it's got to be almost 6 feet off the ground - I have to reach up for stuff.)

Joe: (Makes some kind of disbelieving snort. He's so sure that I left it out and just forgot.)

So, we put the lotion back where it belongs, sit back, and watch. We watch our little monkey climb the freaking table like it's a ladder, then stand on the pad, reach up, get the lotion, and start to climb back down.

Nothing is safe. Nothing.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Belly Post

As those of you lucky enough to have seen my most recent pics know, I am ginormous for a woman who is only about 3 months pregnant. Seriously huge. Noticably pregnant. I already have people asking me "Is it a boy or a girl?", touching my belly, and letting me cut the bathroom line. At 15 weeks pg. Amazing.

Last night I went out with my friend Stacey, and her friend Stacey who is visiting from Florida. Stacey sees me walking out to the car and says "My God, you are SO PREGNANT" and I'm like "I know, I know" and she's like "Look at that BELLY!" and I'm like "Yes, yes, I know" and Florida Stacey says "How far along are you... like 6 months?" and Stacey cracks up and I say "Ummm... 3 months." and Florida Stacey (looking absolutely stunned, I might add) says "Wow. I was being polite. I figured she was ready to drop.

Oh. My. God.

Me!

When Joe gives Jaynie her bath, he uses the opportunity to teach her useful things like new signs, animal noises, how to count to ten, etc. When I give her the bath, I teach her that the correct answer to "Who's the prettiest girl?" is... "Me!"

Who can argue with that?

My Daughter, The Genius

Joe was home for a four day weekend last week, thanks to the 4th of July. During these four days he changed every single poopy diaper we had the misfortune to encounter. (My nausea has gotten SO MUCH WORSE in the second trimester. I'm pretty sure that's not the way it's supposed to work. Blegh.)

Tuesday rolls around, and my secret weapon against stinky diapers has to go back to work.
Approximately 5 minutes after he leaves, Jaynie comes up to me and says "Poop!" (which was really unnessasary, as my eyes started watering when she got within 3 feet of me). She then looks around (here comes the genius part!) and says "Daddy?"

That's right, folks. Daddy is officially in charge of poop around here. When he's home she'll go right to him. "Poop! Daddy!" Sometimes she'll bring him a clean diaper, to help him understand exactly what she's trying to communicate (again - like the smell isn't enough to alert us).

How wonderful is this kid? Pretty freaking wonderful. =)