The world according to Kate

While Kate knows the words "Please" and "Thank You" they aren't always a part of her vocabulary. We often need to remind her to use these words, and while sitting around the other day, Ben tried a new phrase to teach her how to ask politely for something:

Kate: "Daddy, I need water."

Ben: "What is the magic word?"

Kate (without hesitation): "Bippity Boppity Boo."

Me: (snicker)

Ben: "Ahhhh, yes. That is A magic word. But I'm asking about THE magic word.

Kate (puzzled silence): .........

Ben: "Please. The magic word is please."


Kate (more puzzled silence): ........


(Insert me shrugging at Ben while he looks bewildered about explaining how "please" is a magic word.)

Kate (looking at me like, DO YOU HEAR THIS GUY? IS HE CRAZY OR WHAT?): "Oooooookay."


Ben: (SIGH)


Me: (snicker)

Potty training is for the dogs

In my adult life, I've potty trained two dogs. And, yeah, I know parenting a human isn't quite the same thing as dogs but I have seen some VERY similar parallels (SPIT THAT OUT. DON'T LICK THAT. GET DOWN.) so I had hoped my successful canine track record might translate to a toddler.

It didn't.

I know, shocking, right?

Kate has had a potty in her bathroom for the last six months or so. She goes on it every night before bed, and sometimes during the day if she thinks of it, or if mommy is trying to go to the bathroom (HELLO CHILD, GOODBYE PRIVACY). So I'm all, "Kate is TOTALLY ready for potty training" and the universe is all, "HAHAHAHA, LAUGHING MY ASS OFF!"

We decided to get started on this little project yesterday. In preparation, we purchased some pull-ups, some big-girl panties and I made... wait for it... this little jewel of craftiness (don't be jealous, I'll TOTALLY make you one of these for your birthday, what color glitter do you like?):

If you can't read it, it says "Kate's Potty" which was supposed to be "Kate's Potty Chart" but I ran out of room and didn't have the time, patience or give-a-damn to create a second sticker/glitter chart. Especially because Kate CAN'T READ.

The whole idea was that every time Kate went on the potty, she would get stickers for everything she did right (i.e. wiping, flushing, washing hands). I read this strategy online, and even got the template for the chart, so NO, I didn't make this shit up. Which means, it should totally work, right?

Sigh.

It started out fine. She went potty first thing in the morning and we put on a "big girl diaper" (pull-up). But a toddler in training is like a ticking time bomb, so I found myself asking her every ten minutes if she had to go potty, and I swear, at some point she started rolling her eyes. After her first little accident where she TOLD me she didn't have to go, but went in her pull-up anyways, I decided to up the ante... I offered her CANDY if she would go on the potty. So about every five minutes she was running to the potty seat and STRAINING to get a little water to come out, followed by sticking her adorable (but greedy) little hand into my face for her promised candy. Like, NOW. Okaaaay, so that backfired a little, but at least she didn't pee on my sofa again.

Today I woke up refreshed and ready to tackle the potty again. But, VERY quickly I realized another full day at home chained to a potty was not going to go well. For me. Because I was tired of playing pretend with Kate's dolls, especially since they had such a limited vocabulary (we covered breakfast, lunch, dinner, clothes, hair, favorite playgrounds, the Easter Bunny and bubbles. And that is where Kate and her doll ran out of topics so we would start all over. About 500 times. And frankly, I can only talk about eggs, slides and hot dogs so many times in one hour).

I decided to take Kate out to the playground to burn some energy and get away from those devil dolls. Once there, she immediately pooped and then peed in two different "big girl diapers" while never giving any indication that she needed to go to the potty. Back at the house she has been good again, going on the potty when asked to, but since I filched on the whole candy promise (due to her overzealous candy-related urination), she STILL isn't indicating when her bladder might be full.

So tell me, oh wise women (and men) how does this all work? Do I need to become a mind (er, bladder) reader? Keep on beating my head against the wall for a few more days to see if she comes around? Or take my favorite action, pretend this all never happened, call this a failed experiment and chalk it up to... MAYBE she LIKES going in her diaper and I should just leave her the hell alone? You know, at least until high school?

I can't help but feel she is mocking me and my "potty chart" in this picture. But then again, she is all hopped up on candy so she could just be a little over-excited.

Just snip the tip

I really thought that having already had a baby, there wasn't a lot that could surprise me this go around. Except the whole "He is a boy and has boy parts" thing, which I mentioned scares me just a little. Because I am a girl. With girl parts. So, you know, the penis is a slightly foreign thing to me (Yes you jokers, I HAVE seen one thank you very much. But I haven't spent too much time pondering exactly what its like to have one ATTACHED TO MY BODY. Well, not really, although I have really questioned the whole "where does it go when you run" thing. I mean, isn't that uncomfortable? Doesn't it slow you down, kind of get in the way? Aaaaaaand, moving on).

Anyways, what I'm learning is that there is OH SO MUCH to be considered when it comes to little boy penis' (Penises? Peni?) In fact, the infant penis is a hot bed of debate these days. I'm talking about the dreaded C (that is circumcision for you lay people out there). I mean, go to any parenting forum or web site and search for a discussion about circumcision and you will find an eye-full of extremely passionate and angry citizens sticking up for their viewpoint.

• IF YOU DO IT YOUR BABY BOY WILL HATE YOU LATER (he will likely hate us when he is a teenager anyway). 
• IF YOU DON'T DO IT YOUR BABY BOY WILL CONTRACT AN STD OR PENILE CANCER WHEN HE IS OLDER (if he gets penile cancer, that would suck. If he gets an STD, I will kill him). 

You get the idea. Like any good debate, there are people on both sides of the fence, trying to scream the loudest. And I, in all my sensitivity, am like, "Dude. They aren't attractive no matter how you dress 'em up, just matters if they work, right? So what is all the fuss??" To which my husband sputtered a little, then muttered something under his breath and finally chose not to engage me in a discussion that would surely just annoy him and amuse me.

I'm not going to get into what side of the fence I'm on here. I could tell you what we've decided, but poor little baby E2 doesn't need a classmate to find post this some day and share with the WHOLE WORLD whether his parents decided to snip the tip or not. Besides, since according to Ben our son will be a world class athlete, his many teammates will already know whats going on down there (don't lie guys, I truly don't believe you change and shower in a locker room and NEVER check what the other guy is packing, if for no other reason but simply for comparison's sake).

So why did I even bring this up? Well, I guess what I'm sharing with you all is that I am realizing how much even a second-time parent has to learn. I'm sure this isn't going to be the last surprise after all. I'm sure babies are supposed to sleep differently, eat differently and poop differently (no? oh, good, pooping is the same these days? WHEW!) than when Kate was an infant. Which is kind of exciting and scary all at the same time. "Cause we all know how poised, elegant and classy I can be when faced with a parenting challenge. So baby E2, I'm ready for you. Penis and all.

BRING IT.

Next time, I'll do better

Parenting is rife with opportunities for failure. I often experience these moments of messiness with a "I can do better next time!" type of attitude. No, no that is not how I respond. Not really. In real life, I often respond by cussing like a sailor, stomping around and waving my arms like a pissy pants and topping off my melt down by drinking. Like, an entire bottle of wine (PRE-pregnancy folks, simmer down now). Oh, and sometimes I laugh after I'm done yelling, crying and drinking. Laugh at the absurdity of it all, because frankly if you can't wear a mixture of baby poop and vomit on your brand new white pants without chuckling a little, you probably never should have become a parent in the first place.

However, sometimes you have those little "oopsies" that you can't quite find a chuckle out of. You know, the mess-ups that make your heart tighten up for a moment because even though it turned out okay, it truly could have turned out really NOT OKAY. That happened to me this morning.

To start the story, I have to back up a month ago or so to the Great Edelbrock Sick-Pocalypse of 2011. This featured the three of us passing around every cold and sinus infection known to man so that at least one of us were ill for a consecutive six weeks. It was pretty miserable. So drugs (over-the-counter, totally legal mind you) drugs were flying around like candy. At the same time, I realized that Kate DID think pills looked a lot like candy, which isn't surprising considering their size and shape. So I became vigilante about getting all our medicine in one container, far away from a certain child's sticky fingers.

At the same time, my husband was just trying to stay awake/alert enough to bring home the bacon. So he stuck pills in his pants pockets, his coat pockets, up his nose (kidding, sort of) or any place he might get a quick fix when needed. I "reminded" (ie nagged) him to keep medicine out of the reach of Kate on a fairly regular basis. Still, one day Kate was pretending to "drive" his car, and I looked down and saw a small pharmacy in the cup holder. In frustration, I picked up all the pills and shoved them in the change pocket of my wallet before Kate could notice the "candy" in daddy's car.

Fast forward to this morning. I have not opened the change purse in my wallet since that day (not joking, I never use real cash anymore so I never have change to put in it). So imagine my SHOCK and FREAKING SURPRISE when I came back from putting laundry in the drier to see Kate sitting on the sofa, playing with my wallet and surrounded by pills. HOLYSONOFABSUCKHELLDAMN!!!!!!

In my sheer panic, I simply yelled at my daughter. Soooooo, mom of the year there. She dropped my wallet (in what I can only assume was a "what IS your problem lady??" reaction) and I swooped down on the pills and demanded she tell me if she ate any of them. She told me, in a small voice and with VERY wide eyes, "No mommy..." Yeah, I would say "No" too if I had a crazy lady virtually attacking me. "Tell me the truth!" I said. "YOU CAN"T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" she yelled back.

Haha, no she didn't. Sorry, basically she kept telling me she didn't eat any of the pills, medicine, candy, whatever I called it, she assured me none of them had not passed her lips.

Not to call my daughter a liar or anything, but I chose to go ahead and pretend she HAD eaten at least one and called poison control. The lady on the other end quizzed me about the number of pills originally in my wallet (if I knew that, I would likely know if she had EATEN ANY, right??) what kind they were, etc. I ended up repeating "I don't know" a bunch of times and telling her repeatedly about the pills in the cup holder so she would know I don't just leave drugs LAYING AROUND FOR MY DAUGHTER TO NOSH ON. That I was PROTECTING HER when I put those in my wallet. Damn it.

We finally got to a point where she told me that unless Kate hoovered 10 pills in the literally two minutes I was gone, she was going to be fine. To watch her for drowsiness or upset tummy. Since I knew there weren't THAT many pills in my wallet, I felt much better. And after a morning at the park, I pretty much figured she hadn't eaten a single pill. But seriously, for a good 15 minutes there, it was really touch and go.

Boring story? Kind of. It didn't end with an ambulance ride, a huge medical bill or anything else that would create a truly good episode of Grey's Anatomy. But it really terrified me. Because often I forget how fragile it all is, how lucky we are to be entrusted with these little disasters. How we sometimes act as the only barrier between our loved ones and certain disaster (injury or death) on a regular basis. So this time, instead of my normal cursing and stomping, I really did think, "Next time I'll do better" and MAN. I can't stress how much I mean it.

The parenting learning curve

Last year, my first year being a mother, I was THAT mother. You know, the one who really never had a clue. The one who forgot picture day. The one who forgot to pay for school nearly every month. The one who paid the housekeeper in pennies because I forgot to have cash on hand and OH MY GOD GOING TO THE  BANK FELT LIKE TOOO MUCH WOOOOORK. The one who lived in pajamas and hated mothers that took showers and wore make up (seriously, who do you think you are?!).

You know, I was the one you wanted to pat and tell that things would get better, but you also didn't want to seem condescending, so you just walked past in the grocery store aisle while I begged Kate to quit crying and broke down in my own tears.

Ahhh, memories.

And that, my friends, is why I take so much pleasure in the fact that I can measure how much I've grown as a parent by the things I haven't forgotten in the past few months. In fact, twice in the last month I've wanted to high-five myself for remembering things that, on the surface, aren't that big of a deal. But to me, they just prove that I have finally started to pull my shit together.

Because this year, I was NOT the mommy who had to explain to their kiddo that they had forgotten it was Pajama Day. Because I remembered, and I had Kate in her pajamas, and while I think she is too young to realize that everyone was in their jammies, I KNEW. And I felt like a BAD ASS.

And today, when I took Kate to school, I was NOT the mommy who packed a lunch that she didn't need, because it was their special Thanksgiving Day lunch. No, I was the mommy who not only KNEW it was Thanksgiving Day at school, but I brought the MOTHER F*CKING NUGGETS for said feast (I just gave myself a fist pump.)

Honestly, I know I've talked a lot on this blog about feeling like a failure. It is a running theme in my life as a mother. Because I think that when you care so much about something, when there is a person in your life that means the sun, moon and stars, it is easy to feel that way. Because you can NEVER give, be, or do enough.  Except on those days that you come through. Those days that they look at you like you are a super hero. Or sometimes it is just the days that you can look at YOURSELF like you are a super hero. And those days? Those are the days you can feel good, the days that make it all worth while. Even if its just because you brought the MOTHER F*CKING NUGGETS to school.

Shhhh, they know too much already

I mean, seriously. How. Do. They. Learn. It?

I have never, and I mean NEVER walked around the house, grabbing things in my greedy little hands and yelling, "MINE!!!!"

Not even in my most thrilling Supermarket Sweep fantasy, where anything and everything I can see COULD possibly BE mine, do I verbally stake claim to each item (I'm too busy shoving steaks in my cart, because, COME ON, THE MEAT IS WHERE THE MONEY IS. Strategy, baby. Strategy)

So you can imagine my shock and awe when I realized that not only does my kid know the WORD "mine" but also very heartily grasps its concept. The first time she clutched a toy to her chest and said "mine," I was dumbfounded. And to be fair, that toy WAS hers, so I held a certain amount of pride in her first declaration. But after a few more instances where I had to keep my voice as non-snarky as possible when I told her that she was, in no uncertain terms, INCORRECT when she labeled that television remote as "mine," I realized we might have a situation on our hands. And then, I had to think, where does she LEARN this shit?

And I realized. Our kids are smart folks. They KNOW things. And as they get older, they get SMARTER. I'm fairly certain that I'm going to have to start some in-depth strategizing with Ben by the time Kate is two to keep ahead of her.

In the meantime, I'm buying a label machine and making sure everyone can read that certain items, like the remote or the ice cream in our freezer, belongs to: "Liz THIS IS MINE Edelbrock." Not sure this addresses the root of the "mine" problem with Kate, but it sure as hell makes me feel better having staked claim to all the real goodies in the house. So really? Problem solved.

Kaboom

You know when something has been building inside you for quite some time? And then, there is some seemingly innocuous event that sets it off in an explosion so catastrophic no bystander is left untouched? Yeah, I had one of THOSE days yesterday.

I'll start by saying I have a wonderful husband, and we have a wonderful marriage. Just like any lifelong commitment, we are constantly working to grow, change and evolve together. It is a constant work in progress, but we both knew that is what marriage was when we signed up for it.

However, I think one of the hardest things we've gone through to date is the birth of Kate. While she has added unparalleled joy to both of our lives, she also adds a layer of complexity to our relationship as a couple. I've struggled with feelings of inadequacy as a parent, lacking the support and validation that a traditional job provides. Ben has felt more pressure in his new job to be successful and provide for the family. And because of the whirlwind that is life, the discussions and support we should have for one another isn't always there.

This month has been a tough one for us. Ben has brought three distinct things to my attention that made me feel like I was failing in my "job" as a stay at home mother. It would take too much time to go into each item, but needless to say, I felt I was getting a "needs improvement" on my annual review, and that didn't feel good at all.

Going from a competitive and successful professional to a full-time mom has been my greatest challenge. I've always thrived on getting ahead, being good at what I do. I'm used to annual promotions, bonuses and verbal praise from superiors. All things missing in my life at the moment. So when I heard Ben's comments, I heard criticism. I felt defensive, and honestly, devastated. But of course, I said nothing. Our communication had dwindled to surface talks about our days and schedules, and there was no time for talking about feelings or emotions.

So when Ben came home last night with flowers and asked me for a date night, I was ready to bury the hatchet and just have a good time. With Kate sick for the last two weeks, I've been stuck at home and needed some time in the world. We started the drive to our favorite patio and started bantering about random things. At one point, after a particularly bad joke (I admit), Ben said "that wasn't funny." I snapped back that he wasn't funny either. Kind of the "I'm rubber, you are glue" strategy, so obviously not very mature, but I have to admit. I was wounded. Because when you are already raw with negative feelings, it doesn't take much to bring them to the surface.

A few moments later I thought traffic was slowing down and muttered something about hating traffic, and Ben leaned forward and asked, very innocently, "Where is traffic? There isn't any up there."

Kaboom.

I. Lost. My. Shit.

I called him passive aggressive. I told him I didn't appreciate being talked to that way. I told him that he wasn't helpful, he was mean, that he said things just to make me feel bad about myself. All the negativity and emotion from the month just boiled to the surface and I spewed my hurt and anger all over him, like a great, heaving, hormonal Mount Vesuvius (Pompeii reference. Anyone? Anyone? Sigh). Of course, this did not go over well. Instead of an apology (which I didn't really deserve), I was faced with Ben's anger. Because he didn't know what he did. And how could he have? I was angry about something completely unrelated to this moment in time.

We rode home in silence and I was able to analyze what I was feeling. Why I had this hot rush of anger when he questioned me about traffic. And I knew. I knew that in my mind, he had been questioning me all month about my decisions, my actions. I realized we had come to this by ignoring our problems, and I felt ashamed.

We skipped dinner and went home. I sat Ben down. I told him what I was feeling. I cried. I laid myself bare. And we really talked. He explained his comments throughout the month, how his personal feelings and stresses led to many of his criticisms. I shared how difficult it was to have no positive reinforcement at home, and how that had led to some of my actions. It was good. We really heard each other, and healed.

And while last night was painful, sometimes its okay to go KABOOM. After the dust settles, things can be better for the explosion.

The spoken word

When Kate was  younger, I read somewhere that to help your infant's verbal development, you should talk to your baby. Like, all the time. Which wasn't natural to me. I mean, I'm not an extremely talkative person to begin with (no, seriously) but to talk without hope of response? Not really my cup of tea.

However, since I was staying home with Kate, and there weren't any caretakers trained in early childhood education around to make up for my short comings, I decided that I needed to leap outside my comfort zone, and begin a very lonely monologue during the day.

So I started talking to Kate about washing dishes. Doing laundry. How Top Chef Masters is never as good as the real thing (I don't want to watch a bunch of master chefs cook awesome things -- I want to watch hopefuls create food disasters of EPIC PROPORTIONS). Politics. The disaster in the gulf. How jeans go with anything, and a woman can never have too many shoes, no matter her age.

Over the last fourteen months it has become something of a second nature. I don't really realize I'm doing it anymore.Which is all fine and dandy, except that I realized recently that I DON'T STOP DOING IT WHEN KATE ISN'T AROUND. It has become such a subconscious practice that I do it even when I'm alone, like some stark raving lunatic who forgot her meds or escaped some high-security sanitarium a la "Shutter Island" (great movie, but I digress).

I realized this at the most inopportune time, i.e. while doing it in public. I was grocery shopping by myself (a rare occasion) and while picking out fresh produce I chatted merrily about the ripeness of this, the limited selection of that, new produce for the season, and so on. It wasn't until I caught a few people giving me sidelong glances (DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH THE LOONEY!) that I realized I was having a very inspired and detailed conversation. With MYSELF.

I froze like a deer in the headlights. My brain was scrambling about how to get out of this one with at least a shred of pride. I had a few options -- make a joke about my invisible friend, take the time to explain to random people that I was used to having my baby around or maybe just start throwing fruit to create a distraction and run for it. And in that instant, for some UNGODLY reason, my brain made the rational decision to just act like I MEANT to carry on a conversation with myself. So I just KEPT TALKING as I made a fairly leisurely getaway to the canned goods section.

It was like farting in public and then blaming it on the dog that isn't there. It was fooling NOBODY.

I walked away from the grocery store without an ounce of pride. A sensation that I am starting to become familiar with and believe intrinsically accompanies motherhood. Straight from the mortification that arises with screaming babies, bodily fluids in public and now, acts of insanity.

But its okay. Because every time Kate says a new word, points to something when I say it out loud or makes a connection between an object and a spoken word, it pays off. And once in awhile, like last week when a gentleman stopped me mid-sentence with Kate and told me I was being a "wonderful mom" for talking to her, it feels good to hear other people agree that what I do matters. And though I constantly feel like I'm bumbling around, trying to figure out this whole parenting thing... sometimes I know I'm not doing half bad.

No one is safe

So two weeks ago, when it was totally relevant, I started a post about Kate walking. I never finished it due to some diaper or work emergency, I can't remember exactly why. What I do know however is that her first toddling steps are glaringly missing from this blog, since our whole life seems to have changed since Kate went from our little baby to this independent TODDLER. So I feel the need to back-story her walking, and it went a little something like this...

We always knew Kate would be an early walker, as she has been taking assisted steps for several months now. However, exactly one week and one day before her year birthday, Kate took her very first unprovoked steps while I was on a conference call for work (I've been working part-time from home). And, because I was distracted, it didn't feel like a huge deal at the time. It registered that Kate was walking towards me from the fridge, I mean, I mentally noted it because I've become a genius at multi-tasking with Kate (I can strategize with a client and feed a fussy infant a cracker while working the remote to find Handy Manny so she will BE QUIET MOMMY IS ON A CALL with the best of 'em) and I had already seen her take a few steps before, when Ben or I would let go of her hands and she'd walk a tiny distance into our arms. So anyways, I mentally noted all this happening but really didn't react, except to flinch when she went from standing to flat on her face, which is apparently her only means to go from walking to not walking.

So I hang up after the call and look at her, and she looks at me, like "Hey jerk face -- I'm doing something pretty amazing and cool here, could you focus on me for like, TWO SECONDS??" and I'm all "What? Like mommy doesn't have other things to do than focus on you?" and she is all "YOU SUCK!"

And while that conversation MAY be a SLIGHT exaggeration of the actual discussion (since Kate's verbal skills are limited to hi, mama, dada, doggie and crowing like a rooster) once I hung up and looked down at her, I realized the enormity of what had happened while my attention was elsewhere. My little girl had pulled herself to standing and on her own gumption, taken three tiny steps that had really big meaning.

She was no longer my baby girl. She was my toddler.

The rest of the day it was very tentative exploration time and I watched her like a hawk (to make up for, you know, being a crappy mom). Kate was up and down all over the living room, the kitchen, the hallway, her bedroom... you get the idea. It was two to three steps every time and then a less-than-graceful fall to the floor. At which point I would hold my breath, preparing for the wail and a few tears, but she seemed so impressed by herself that she just would take a breather and then get ready for the next big adventure, courtesy of her new found freedom from crawling.

Two days later, I had a naked baby screaming a tiny war cry as she ran down the hall from bath time, off to do something very important like terrorize the dogs or a demolish a village of her Fisher Price Little People. With walking, Kate has become invincible. And not too unlike a cuddly version of Godzilla. Woe be to anyone or thing in her path. She will stomp, and likely fall, all over your ass.

And, yes, I realize this photo has nothing (like, totally, 100% nothing) to do with my post. But it makes me laugh every single time I look at it, so there you go. You are welcome.

One year

Dear Kate,

Today you turn one, and I can't believe how the past year has flown by. You utterly amaze me with every passing moment and I'm so honored and proud to have brought you into this world. I just love everything about you. You are such a tiny little person who literally fills up a room with your big personality. I can watch you for hours and laugh with you constantly. I love the way you command a room with your funny booty shaking dances, how you kiss or hug every other child you see, the way you point at what you want and shake your head at me when I get it wrong. I love when you do something new, something that you came up with all on your own, like blowing raspberries to mimic me blowing my nose, using my hand to push the buttons on toys that are too hard for you to push, pulling a cap off a pen and finding it maybe the coolest thing on the planet so you have to do it 50 times in a row. And I love it when you finally learn to do something I've been working on with you, like when you learned to play peek-a-boo, to crow like a rooster and of course, walking like a champ. I could go on and on because the things you do that make me proud, that make me happy, that make me in awe of you -- the list is endless.

Thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for teaching me a new kind of love. Thank you for making me rich in spirit and whole in person.

I love you.

Mom

My Funny Valentine

Today seems like a good day to share the moment my heart was swept away from me. It was only a week ago actually. Saturday, February 6, 2010. A day that will live with me forever.

My family was in town, and I was given the luxury of a long shower (without cartoons or wailing baby in the background) while Kate entertained my folks. Once clean, dry, dressed and -- HAIR DID -- I came back into the living room and scooped Kate up for a hug while I chatted with the group. Obviously, I wasn't paying her enough attention, so Kate reached up her perfect, tiny little hands and placed them on either side of my face until I faced her and looked into her eyes. Then, ever so gently, she leaned forward and gave me the most gentle and loving kiss I've ever received. I nearly cried it was so sweet. It was if she was saying, "I know you weren't gone long, but I want you to know that I missed you and I love you."

The thing is, I know Kate loves me. She cuddles and snuggles and wants me around when she is hurt or tired. But she had never kissed me before. Our funny bunny always ducked when we'd come at her with a kiss, so when she wanted to show a little affection, she would gently lay her forehead against ours. But we couldn't get her to kiss us no matter how hard we tried.

And that is the part that melts my heart the most, that I wasn't looking for a kiss. I wasn't puckered up at her, trying to teach her what "kiss" meant or even trying to sneak in a cuddle. At that moment, while I was holding her she somehow connected the love we feel for her with the act of giving her a kiss, and she felt that love and wanted to share that with me. It humbled and amazed me.

The group "aaaahhhhed" -- so of course my little showgirl gave me six more kisses in a row. The last four or so open-mouthed as she grinned at her fans. And of course then she got bored with the game and was ready to be put down so she could go terrorize the dogs, or eat a leaf or poke a finger in a light socket, and the tender moment was all but forgotten for her.

But I will never forget it as long as I live.

Bragging rights

I try to stay away from gushing about Kate in my posts. Not just because it could get boring and repetitive for you, but because all the things that I would gush about seem awfully small to an outsider (She smiles all the time! She sings and coos! No shit, she is a baby!!). But every once in awhile, I think gushing is a good thing, and today seems like the day. Because today, our little Kate turns four months old, and all the small things she is and does on a daily basis is what adds up to be the greatest blessing I've been given in this life.

So here goes a list of just a few of the things I love about my Kate.

1. Kate is a flirt. Men, women, children, it doesn't matter who, Kate loves attention. Whenever faced with an admirer, Kate has her coy little act down pat. She will stare at someone for a few seconds, then grin really big and turn and bury her head in the chest of the person holding her. Then she will look back to make sure she still has an audience, and give another big gummy grin, then again bury her head. She'll keep this up until said admirer gets tired of staring at her adorable little face (doesn't happen often) or she needs a nap or milk break.


2. Kate smiles with reckless abandon. There is no holding back with my baby, and when she smiles, her whole face lights up with joy. Her nose scrunches and she truly grins with her eyes.


3. Kate sleeps like her mommy. As soon as Kate figured out how to roll from her back to her front, she decided sleeping on her side was the way to be. She rolls over almost onto her stomach, so that her top leg is crossed over and kind of pulled up near her chest, like a little mini-me. I also love when she is just out to the world, that slack-jawed deep and peaceful slumber which adults rarely experience unless drunk or on sleep meds. At those times, the world could be exploding around her (or okay, a more likely scenario is that the doorbell rings and the dogs go crazy) and she doesn't even flinch.


4. Kate is a wiggle worm. A tiny bundle of raw energy, Kate is constantly rolling over, looking around, pulling at toys, shaking her rattles, kicking her legs and stuffing whatever she can reach into her mouth.


5. Kate is an (evil) genius. Not only does she constantly outwit Ben and I, but she does this thing with her hands where she rubs them together and twists her fingers like she is in the process of creating a nefarious (but brilliant) scheme to rule the world, or at least the Edelbrock household. It is pretty adorable when she is falling asleep while planning her next move for world domination.


6. Kate is a talker. She is constantly chatting to herself, her panda, her hands or feet, me, the mirror, a wall, the dogs, or insert inanimate object of your choice here.


7. Kate is handsy. There is nothing I love more than watching her explore her world by touching, grabbing and scratching everything around her. I love picking her up and having her wrap her hand in my hair, my shirt, my necklace, and I love how she falls asleep while eating with her hand on me for comfort.

The list of things I love could go on and on. Obviously, she isn't curing cancer or solving quadratic equations. But what she is doing is growing and learning and changing and I couldn't be more proud.

As for the official baby stats, today Kate weighs 11 lbs 15 oz and is 24.5 inches long.


Kate and Panda at 1 month

Kate and Panda now (4 months)

My baby is cooler than your baby

So, I'll admit it. I used to be one of those people that sneered at parents who had those bumper stickers on their cars, the ones that announced their child was an honor student, or some similar achievement. I always gave a mental high-five to the parents with the "My kid can kick your honor student's ass" bumper stickers, giving points for humor, humility and honesty about their offspring's real talents.

But now, I totally understand the "my kid is the smartest, greatest, most intelligent child on the planet... and really adorable to boot" mentality. And the need to shout it from the rooftops (or from the blogosphere). So where do I sign up for the "My baby is cooler than your baby" bumper sticker? Truly, I'm ready to slap that puppy on the window and go for a drive.

This week (Monday, June 1 to be exact) Kate rolled over for the first time. I was on the floor with her during tummy time, and my mom was watching us while talking on the phone and when it happened, we both just looked at each other like "Did Kate just roll over?" I was flabbergasted that it happened so quickly and with so little fan fair. I am not sure what I expected, but something along the lines of a marching band crashing through our living room seemed appropriate.

This just felt like such a momentous achievement. My mom was fairly certain it was an accident and took Kate by surprise as much as it did us. But then she did it again the next night. And by the time Ben was back in town, Kate would flip over nearly seconds after being put on her tummy. She never liked tummy time anyways, and now she realized that by just raising up on her arms and flinging her big ol' noggin over with reckless abandon she could end tummy time quickly.

Genius, thy name is Kate.

And while I pat myself on the back for having perhaps the smartest child of all time, I realize that all parents feel this way. And I realize that rolling over at 10 weeks doesn't necessarily put Kate up for a Nobel Prize. And yes, for all you other mothers out there, I also realize that my baby probably really isn't cooler than your baby. Not to you anyways. But you have to be honest. At those moments when you are staring at your amazing little human who completely BLOWS YOUR MIND with each new day, you KNOW you are thinking it too.

My baby is TOTALLY cooler than your baby.

And no, we don't have video of this achievement just yet. We were in Tulsa with the grandparents and of course left the camera back at home. Because that is just what you do, you buy a video camera to capture all those momentous occasions and then you never have it with you when you need it.

The baby comes out WHERE?!?!

Okay, so I wasn't that clueless, but our very first childbirth class at the hospital on Sunday really did open my eyes to my complete ignorance about child birth. This mainly comes from the fact that I closed my eyes during the educational film in my human sciences class in college, and to date have skipped over ALL chapters about the birth in the many books I've read about the pregnancy. I was taking the whole "What I don't know can't hurt me" approach, but after this Sunday, let me promise you that what I didn't know (or didn't want to know) about having a baby is going to hurt the same, whether I know about it or not.

During the six (SIX) hour class, we were barraged by information, pictures, videos and diagrams that could make the toughest man cry if he were forced to view them long enough. You could see it around the room. All the women looked more than a little shell-shocked after a particularly visual birthing video and all the men had haunted looks in their eyes that very clearly said "Thank GOD this is going to happen to her and not me. "

I'm not going to go into detail, but lets just say I went home hoping that between now and March 22, scientists would come up with some miraculous discovery where babies could be born through some sort of high-tech gizmo, a sort of a "beam her out, Scotty!" technology where Baby E suddenly appears in my arms. Cute, cuddly, clean and pain free.

So, if there are any scientists out there currently developing this technology, please write to me. I believe in you. You can do it. Just do it quickly. Seriously... like by March 22.