Endearing little ditties

The past month G has been developing in leaps and bounds, and her language skills have exploded. It makes life easier all the way around when you know exactly what she wants. Walking gives her an obvious sense of accomplishment (obvious because of the giant grin on her face while en route), and I think she really loves that we understand what she is saying a lot of the time. A few random examples of some recent developments:

1) Today for the first time, she gave a command instead of just pointing and naming. I went in to get her in her bed this morning, and she was laying on her back chatting with her stuffed animals. I talked to her a little while and decided to tickle her a little. She squirmed and shrieked in mock protest, and then took her little hand, wagged her finger at me and said, "No, no, no!" Now, Gillian's nanny taught her that. When she lunges for Silvia's cell phone or indulges in other naughtiness, Silvia wags her finger and says "no, no, no, Gillian!" (in a far from stern voice...). Interestingly, we have noticed Gillian catching herself about to do something she shouldn't (like start pushing keys on the computer keyboard), and wagging her finger and saying "no, no, no" as if reminding herself she is about to do something she is not allowed to do. Beyond being super cute, it is fascinating to watch all this develop.

2) Another little thing we have noticed is that after we soothe her she pulls back and gives us a kiss and pets our faces gently. This happened twice on the Flight From Hell when Sean held her wrecked little body as she whimpered after a Big Tantrum. In spite of the fact that she was mad, she appreciated his love and pulled back and gave him a sweet kiss and pet on the face. Wednesday when she fell in the kitchen and hit her head on the tile and I picked her up and held her while she cried, she did the same thing. It's nice that she appreciates that we love her, mid-tantrum or in pain or whatever.

3) She nursed the last time on January 21st, and I pumped the last time on January 26th (also the date she had her last bottle with breastmilk in it). This was sad, but at some point, I guess you have to let it go, particularly if your child can't be bothered to wait for letdown (G would sit up and point at her bottle (which we had to supplement with of she would have starved-I wasn't producing much the last month) and ask for it). Now, every now and then, she points at my breasts, says "booo", lifts my shirt, and takes a peek. I guess she wants to make sure they're still there. She has never tried nursing again, but always kisses them, gives an appreciative pat, covers them up, and is on her merry way. As if to say, "thanks for all that work for all those months! just wanted to say Hi!.



4) Gillian loves to wear Sean's knit winter hat and brought it to me last night because she wanted to wear it (and I love when she wears it because it is ridiculous and cute). So I put it on her. A few minutes later, she pulled it off held it up to me and said, "hat. Papa." It is soooooooooo nice that she says Mama and Papa now and means US. But it was interesting that she noticed that the hat belonged to Sean. Also last night, when I was holding her she saw my work ID badge on my pants and pointed and said "mamama". I took it off and gave it to her, and proceeded to kiss, pet, and hug my photo. This made me happy. I felt validated. It is a nice thing that after 17 months, she knows who makes her feel safe and loved and she shows me affection. It is odd that for a very long time she said "mamamamama" and "dadadadada" without context (at about 6 months). Then she knew who we were if we said "where's mama" or "where's papa" (looking for us or pointing; around 11 or 12 months) and didn't say mama or papa for a while, and now she says it and means us.

5) Obviously, we are moving past the hitting a little. We decided to not make a big deal out of it and just remind her to kiss, pet, or hug whatever it is she is hitting. Early on she discovered that hitting = "NO!" from us, which did not deter her from the behavior (and our response amused her). So, instead, we have tried to get her to supplement a more acceptable alternative behavior (giving options seems to work for us). Her baby dolls, for some reason, and the cats seem to be what she likes to wail on. The cats don't allow her near (most of the time), and we have limited time with the baby dolls. Overall, she seems to be back to her sweet self, and the little demon baby seems to be on the outs (at least for now).

And today IS SUNNY. So, it's 27 degree out and not exactly beach weather, but after this dreary, miserable, frigid, and VERY SNOWY winter, I'll take cold and sunny. I mean, 27 actually feels pretty warm some days (all relative I guess). Now, if it would just get warm enough to melt all this dirty snow before we get more snow, that would be fan-tastic. (this is probably the second winter since I have been here where I have been asking myself, "WHY did we move here again?" QUICK-hurry up April and remind me!).

The day that (almost) never ended

My GOD I am tired. What a crazy and emotional week I had topped off with the worst travel day in human history (ok, a wee bit dramatic, but in my (personal) human history). I sometimes think God likes to throw in a little extra something to see how much you can take when you smugly decide *this* is the worst it can get. Oh, no. Be humble and thankful for the relatively pitiful level of misery you have on your plate at any given time because It Can Always Get Worse.

So, the trip to Florida was as good as it could have been. The flight down had us counting our blessings for this wonderful, dear little creature who is our fabulous child. She read books on the plane. She spent 45 minutes transferring stickers from the top of one of her hands to the other, and onto our hands (I highly recommend this or band aids around their fingers for some quality busy time). She colored on paper I taped to the tray table. She took walks up and down the aisle smiling that beatific glowing joyous grin and waving and cheerfully exclaiming "HI!" to everyone she made eye contact with. We humbly accepted the sea of compliments, smiling and nodding when people said, "wow, what a happy little baby!", "she is SO well behaved!", "what a precious angel"! They might as well been saying, "Thanks for DOING YOUR JOB and keeping that kid quiet, so I could peacefully enjoy my [insert] nap/crossword puzzle/Dan Brown novel/Wall Street Journal/saccharine poorly written love story about sexy beefy pirates and beautiful virgin captives". Bill and Suzi met us at the airport to take Bug down to The Farm where we would be staying that night while Sean and I went over to Dawn and Jim's to visit with the family. Even though Gillian refused to take a bottle or sleep on the plane (and she got up at 5:30 in the morning, and by the time we made the hand-off it was noon), and Bill and Suzi decided to stop by her Great-grandmother's house, where she also did not sleep, and was still a delight. Dancing and clapping and talking and laughing and singing. Apparently, up till she got to sleep at 2:30 (8 hours after she woke up), she was the model child.

Visiting with the family was really nice. The service was beautiful, heartfelt and sweet, and we cried and we laughed. It was very healing and therapeutic...we watched old home videos and their wedding tapes (which officially memorializes the hair and fashion blackouts of the mid 1980s, including my own. Sean at one point exclaimed, "Jesus, how many mullets were at this wedding?!?" (just a note: I got rid of my mullet in 1986). We told stories of Jim in his heyday. Some were silly and surficial, and some were intense and goosebump instilling. Everything was good. Bill and Suzi came to Jax to support me, Dawn, and Amber. That was unexpected, but still very welcome. The also enjoyed a full day with Gillian, who is clearly the joy of their lives. And thankfully, she was well behaved during that visit. I sometimes think that they think we are delusional when we say she is being a little terror, since she is always a perfect little angel around them. She is obviously savvy enough to know that this relationship (with grandparents) is worth keeping as pristine as mountain snow. And she just adores them to death. When I handed her off at the airport to two people she hasn't seen in 7 weeks, she couldn't be bothered to even kiss me good-bye. She was too busy singing to Nonni. So much for separation anxiety.

Sleep was rough for Gillian on this trip. It just wasn't possible to protect it like we normally do with where we stayed and our schedule. She went to bed late and woke up early, and he bed was in our room. The first night she went down at 9:30 eastern (a not unreasonable 8:30 central) but woke up at 4 am. She proceeded to stay up for three hours before going back to sleep. So, we got about 5 hours of sleep. When you cry a lot, you need to sleep to get rid of the sandpaper eyes you will inevitably get, but that didn't happen that night (the night before the service). The bright side: I was awake for the sunrise and went out and wrote my little piece for Jim on the dock. That is a really great place for soul-searching, thinking, reminiscing, or whatever other deep thing you feel inclined to do. The next night, she was up until 11 pm and woke up at 6:45 and refused to go back to sleep. AND THAT WAS THE TRAVEL DAY FROM THE DEEPEST BOWEL OF HELL.

Anyway, after a simply beautiful trip, we were scheduled to return home yesterday. We were running a little late, but thanks to Sean's Lead Foot, we made it to the airport with 55 minutes to spare before the flight left. We returned the car and ran to the bag check to find we have missed the bag check cutoff of 45 minutes by THIRTY SECONDS. But, John from United was a generally nice person and gave us a break. Whew. We checked the care seat and two other bags, and more leisurely strolled to the easy security line, bought some $8 bottles of water, and continued on to the gate area. We got there at 11:40, 30 minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. They should have been boarding. They weren't.

I didn't freak right away. I went up to get a gate check receipt for our umbrella stroller (a $15 wonder if there ever was one-we have gotten ever penny's worth over the past 8 months), and heard the pilot getting off the plane say something about "a wheel's up time of 3:17". Huh? Oh yes, a few minutes later they came on the loud speaker and said the flight was delayed THREE HOURS because of weather into Chicago (travelling in and out of here is a serious pain), we would board at 2:45...but we would get home, and Gillian would get back to her usual sleep schedule, at least. The reason? more SNOW. We have had an unbelieveable amount of snow this year. I am sick of it, especially after a visit to Florida. So, I left Sean to have some alone time with the airport wifi, and I took Gillian to Chili's where I paid $5 for a kid's plate of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, deciding to hoard the last jar of baby food/last of the oatmeal Just In Case (and thank God I did that because there was an "In Case" this time). I ate a relatively decent salad, and was sufficiently happy with our food and Gillian's behavior. We took our time. We returned to the waiting area where there had been no update in an hour and a half. We let Gillian walk around. She was practicing some mad balance skillz walking all over the place. She flirted with everyone, and at one point walked off with a young Sailor's hat on and his container of Tic Tacs, shaking them like a maramba in her Mardi Gras beads. Everyone sighed and was charmed by her sweetness, her charisma, and her joy when she passed by or stopped for a visit. I walked around with her for a while, and then I have a turn on the computer while Sean entertained her and followed her around the gate area, where she held court with her new admirers.

Around 3, 15 minutes past when they said we were going to board, we were told that O'Hare was closed for snow removal, and that nothing was going in or out. There would be another update in "an hour or so". I kept checking out http://www.faa.gov/ to see what the deal was (real time) because it made me feel more in control of the situation. At least my frustration could be founded on up-to-the-minute truth. Thankfully, Gillian fell asleep in her $15 stroller as Sean wheeled her around Concourse B hoping she might go to sleep eventually. He brought her back and we leaned her up against the wall, wheels locked, to try to avoid a pinched nerve in her neck from being slouched over. At 4:30, another update: YOUR FLIGHT HAS BEEN CANCELLED. Oh, and that flight that was supposed to leave at 5:15 that you were thinking you could get on? DELAYED TILL 7:30. We freaked. What should we do? Spend another three hours waiting to leave and not being guaranteed we could? Try to retrieve the carseat and get to a hotel and start over the next day? Initially, I decided to get on the 7 am flight the next day and had one guy go find our carseat. Then after talking to Sean and his mother (on the phone) we decided to get on the 7:30 flight. We gate-checked the carseat. We went back to good Ol' Chili's for an overpriced dinner where I had a massive beer that I had clearly earned. I was emotionally wiped out. Eyeballs like pockets from the subsaharan desert, and desperately in need of a nap. But we decided to rally. We went and had terrible service and decent food at Chili's and it cost us a fortune (Gillian had that last jar of baby food I had kept mixed with dry oatmeal and sucked it down). Gillian was good but hit the wall about 10 minutes into our 30 minute wait for the check. Sean took her and walked and I waited. And waited.

We headed back to the waiting area, exchanging smart-assed commentary with other passengers from the earlier flight about our experiences, and Gillian resumed her charm fest, walking around like she had been walking for years (except the flailing arms and semi-stiff legs) for the last hour and a half of our wait. Around 7:30 we boarded. We had decent seats at least, and had a whole row to ourselves. Then we were told there was a tornado warning in Jacksonville, and "[we] hope we can get out of here before the rain starts". We sat on the runway for a half hour. My bag of tricks was spent in the previous 9 hours in Jacksonville Airport, and Gillian couldn't walk the aisle. She screamed. She arched her back, and cried real tears, and howled and choked in protest. She was beyond exhausted, and wasn't interested in any fixes we tried. She wanted to WALK, dammit. We tried to shush her, and rocked her, and tried to give her a bottle (which she swatted away like a gnat). We took off around 8 pm, at last, rain, tornadoes, and snowstorms all. It was a perfectly miserable trip home. Gillian was so overtired that she could NOT sleep. We had about an hour of quiet/charmingness (her flirting with neighbors through the seats) and an hour and a half of blood-curdling screechy crying which shouted "TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN-I AM ABSOLUTELY UTTERLY EXHAUSTED AND CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ONE MORE SECOND-THIS IS MY FRUSTRATED CRY FOR SLEEP". It was very very long trip. Most of the trip we couldn't move around the cabin because of turbulence. That was unacceptable to Gillian. At one point, to keep her from trying to scoot under Sean's legs for escape, which she had been trying for 20 minutes, hence the screaming and thrashing about, and sat her in my lap facing outward (a tip from Megan) and let her thrash and cry. I cried too. I was way too wrecked for this challenge, and felt terrible for what we had chosen to do to this poor little baby. But, thankfully, we landed. Gillian fell asleep 5 minutes before we landed. And her reputation as The Most Well-Behaved Toddler That Ever Flew the Friendly Skies went down in a blazing inferno.

That wasn't the end, though. Baggage claim took somewhere around 50 minutes. It took the train 20 minutes to come and another 25 to get us to remote parking. We got home at 12:30 am, about FIFTEEN HOURS after we arrived that the airport. We put Gillian to bed and crashed out. Needless to say, we have both napped all day. In our own beds.

Life will never be the same

So, from Development Central, something miraculous to lend a bright spot to my life. Kinda like Sean said yesterday when I was sitting here with my heart shattered, "Gillian, come over here and give your Mama somethin' beautiful to look at". Just all kinds of sunshine. And God knows we could all use some sunshine these days.



I have to say, this makes me happy in a sad kind of way. My little baby in a real life toddler now.

And then...

He was gone.

James Robert Anderson
February 3, 1967-February 6, 2008

There she goes....

New thing: Walking (assisted) constantly. Like, you're laying on the ground and she scoots over and grabs your hand or finger, and tries to pull you up to a standing position. When you get up to a standing position, she leads you up and down the halls, through the rooms, around the dining room, and back again. All. day. long. I have to say, it's about time she takes an interest in walking (she is almost 17 months old), but it's a little sad. She even took four steps at a friend's birthday party the other day. Oh, and she is really into her sunglasses (that she has previously had no interest in). So, she's pretty much a toddling, shade-wearing, beaded, yapping little bundle of energy. Our baby is getting so big!

Ooooooooooooooooh SNAP!

Here comes the uglies. After a positively blissful couple of weeks with a girl who is sporting SIX teeth, who is eating like I always dreamed she could, and who has been sweet and delightful, I must tragically announce the development of a not so darling new habit. Hitting.

So, we don't hit eachother, or G, or the cats. She has not learned to hit from anyone that I know of. She always gets a little exhuberant with the kitties after some kisses and hard patting, and starts pounding a little harder than they like (I am secretly waiting for a good old fashioned retaliation, but alas, our kitties are very tolerant). That has been the case for ages, so nothing new there. But last week, something new began. Gilly would love, love, love her baby doll, then lay baby down gently, and start walloping on it. Not just that, but chanting (progressively louder) "ya-Ya-YA-YA-YA!!!" whilst in the act, as if it were a battle cry. This prompted me to react, and say, "No Hitting" very firmly, kinda like the tone I would have imagined Moses using when reading the commandments (very somber, folks). Then, following up with the run of the mill, "gentle, Gilly. we touch [insert object] gently, like this". Hearing this, she hugs the baby, pats it's back, and kisses it, but within 10 seconds it happens all over again.

So, what's the big deal about a baby doll? you ask. Well, nothing until she starts beating the baby, then looks at me for a reaction (last Wed). And then there was poor Francie, who was the object of Gillian's abuse on Friday- a real, live baby. Gillian hit Francie over toys and because she didn't want Silvia to hold Francie. In fact, Francie was so traumatized, that apparently she was beyond eager for Sean to remove our child from the premises ASAP when he showed up to pick her up and bring her home. By all accounts it was a "rough" day. Not to say that Francie has never dished it out herself (Gillian was sporting a nice scab for two weeks where Francie bit her and drew blood over a toy-you have to appreciate the primordial world of toddlerhood!). But here's the thing: How do you react to this behavior in the way that's most likely to make it go away soonest?

What I started to do today was take the baby away when she hits it, and hold it and kiss it and tell her she hurt the baby and that the baby is sad, and does she want to be nice to her and make her happy again with hugs and kisses? It incenses her to see me holding the baby, so that may be an incentive. Clearly, we must address he hitting with a "no hitting". Particularly because she has hit me in the face a few times over the past couple of days. As the words "Gillian, no hitting" are coming out of my mouth she is puckering up for a kiss. As if the kiss erases the smack down. She does that with the baby doll too. From here on out, a smack will equal being put on the floor and walked away from. As in, no one wants to be around you when you're being ugly.

Before Friday I thought it might be best to ignore it since she was clearly anticipating my reaction and began trying to elicit one. But you have to stop the buck somewhere when it spills out of your house and into someone else's. She is testing boundaries, and there is definitely a firm and unwavering one in our house when it comes to meanness. So, my precious little angel, my perfect butterfly, is channeling the Dark Side. Her yin is out of balance. Apparently, this isn't a rare thing between now and 20 months of so, but as with all the other unpleasantness I hear about with other people's kids, I was hoping to skip this one. No such luck.

GIRL

Ya'll- I love having a little girl. Not trying to say that having a little boy is no less special or sweet, or that I don't fully expect to love any little boy sent my way just as much. BUT, I won't be doing this with a little boy's hair and taking him out in public.

Christmas in January

Gillian has a new tooth, on the lower left side, FINALLY!!! She has been having teething symptoms on and off for about three months. In fact, she has been cutting four teeth forever, and lately has been clingy and pitiful. The gum is all swollen on the other side on the bottom as well. The top two next to the middle ones are visible through the gums. See, our girl doesn’t do anything halfway either. None of this “cutting-one-tooth-at-a-time-to-make-it-easier-on-herself” business, she’ll wait till she doubles her tooth count to cut any more at all.

There has been a spurt in verbal abilities, which is clearly making Gillian feel quite pleased with herself. Things she consistently says (that I understand):

Cracker (cack-uh)
Cheese (teece)
Ball (bu-uh)
Bulb (Bu)
Bath (baah)
Bottle (b-buh)
Baby (bay)
Hot (ha-ha-ha)
Cold (but she says "brrrrr" instead!)
Belly (bey)
Toe (tt-tt-tuh)
Kitty ("kkkuh")
Barrette ("ba-brr")
All done ("da-doh", the little sing song way she says this gives it away; she is imitating what I say when I take her tray away after she eats)

She still mostly makes animal sounds in lieu of saying the animal name (meow, woof, quack-quack). Even more exciting, though, is her imitation abilities lately. Not only with words that she may or may not remember, but she imitates tones and sounds you sing to her. Yesterday we went through the alphabet, me saying "ba, ba, ba" and her repeating, then "da-da-da" and "ga-ga-ga" and all the way through. She successfully repeated every consonant, even "wa".

I have to capture this on video, but she is singing a little song that sounds a lot like one Nonni has been singing to her since she was born. That one is without prompting. Still no walking, and no apparent interest in walking.

There's our developmental update!

WHEW! (all about me)

Well, it's done. I did it. Last Thursday, I defended my dissertation. Successfully. No, better than that. The Committee didn't have much to say...just a few minor things. My oral defense was done in 15 minutes flat (the presentation was 45 minutes).

I've been meditating on what exactly this means in the grand scheme of my life the past few days, and quite frankly the reality is that I don't feel any different. My advisor said it's anticlimactic that way. Ok, I feel different in this way: I am absolutely, utterly exhausted. Like I've been saving up all the fatigue of the past 6 years for when I would have the mental energy to handle it. It's kindof like my mom (who worked 60-80 hours a week at a convenience store to pay all the bills when I was growing up (abridged version)) use to say, "I don't have time to be sick"...well, I guess I haven't had time to be tired (between work, and school, and motherhood). But now I am sooooo tired. Ironically, I have been unable to sleep the past two nights in spite of that fact.

I have strived for one goal after the next my entire life. This is my last big tangible career/achievement-type goal (well, maybe I will get a registered environmental health scientist certification for fun, but that's definitely not needed at this point). So, now that I have reach this place, what's next? Weirdly, I am beginning to realize the roadmap of my life is riddled with the noteworthy stops of experiences...many of those having been working toward or achieving goals. Truth be told, I have no idea how to relax and not be all salmon-like trying to swim against the current to get to the next seemingly impossible place.

Isn't there some hobby or something I'd like to do now in the free time that is looming so near me? Yes, SO MUCH!! Sean lovingly made me an art bench and shelves in his workshop "for when [I'm] done with school". I use to love to make stuff, and to sculpt, and to be generally creative. Although I have neglected that part of myself, I have found myself to be pretty forgiving and find ways back to the garden when I have needed it. Now I want to live there full time again. And music.... How wonderful it will be to do that again. Even the simple things like reading what I want..maybe fiction or a memoir that is inspiring (in lieu of something in, say, the Journal of Environmental Engineering).

Lately, my friends and I, on what use to be an online pregnancy support group that is now a parenting support group (a shout out to Dee, Kirsten, Marcy, Martha, and Megan!!), have been talking a lot about feeling like we have lost a little of ourselves throughout this parenting process, and we all agree we need to find and nurture those passions that have always resonated in us. I feel like that strange neglect of myself began when I became pregnant with the expectation of finishing school, even those years ago when I began the program, well before I became pregnant with my Gillian. Anyone who really knows me knows how single-minded I can get when I am working on something I feel I need to accomplish...often at the expense of other things. The stubbornness to finish what I start has been a blessing and a curse, I guess.

But here I am. Soon-to-be LCDR Michelle Colledge, PhD, MPH. Weird. On May 9th I will walk across the stage to accept my diploma that I busted my ass and risked losing my sense of self to earn (I fully expect angels with trumpets and a heavenly light and that one sound when you see the heavenly light and trumpets as I am hooded at long last). I will look back and not have a clue about how I managed to finally get there. But hopefully that day, roughly four months from now, will find me better self-cultivated, more self-aware, and though I would never want to float too far away, with my head a least *a little* up in the clouds.

Oh How I Love Thee

(new camera, Nikon SLR D-40. Many thanks to Sarah and Brandon for turning me on to this magnificent camera)

Let me Count the Ways....

I love thy shutter speed


And thy clarity


And thy sharpness of character


Thank you, Bill and Suzi, for my wonderful Christmas present. My photo-taking skills are going to an all new level!