Dominant Genes

That's Louisa on the left, Bridget on the right. No, really, it is.

When Bridget was born I didn't think she really looked like Louisa. I was, clearly, wrong. Look, it's like the exact same nose! Same mouth! Same big brown eyes! (Actually these photos make Bridget's eyes look darker, but in fact Louisa's eyes just took longer to darken in the beginning. Her eyes are darker now than they look here.) This is wild.

Rice Cereal for Dinner

Rice Cereal for Dinner
Originally uploaded by carliches

Here's the video!

Gravity and Mobility: A Cautionary Tale

So, hey, Bridget is really getting the hang of this moving-around business. She can roll back to front and then to back again, she can spin herself around (like the hands on a clock) and she can even somehow get around-- or possibly over?-- a pillow that has been strategically placed on the edge of the bed to prevent her from going over the edge. Isn't that something? Another fun fact I learned today: that bit of parenting wisdom that goes "never leave a baby unattended, even for a minute, on a raised surface" is for real. You really never do know when will be the first time they are going to roll all the way over, or squirm around (or possibly over) a pillow. It really does take no longer than the time it takes to step away from the bed to the coat closet and pull out the bin of hats. And the smack followed immediately by a wail is really not the best way to start the day.

I should add, at this point, that Bridget is totally fine and I have video evidence to prove that which I will post in a moment. Yes, she fell off the bed on my watch. (Louisa's best quote from today: "Mama, why did Bridget fall on the floor?") Yes, Louisa once fell out of the same bed in pretty much the same spot-- but that time it was because I had fallen asleep while I was nursing her. So it's not like I made the same stupid mistake twice. Technically, it was two different stupid mistakes that coincidentally occurred in the same place. That's better, right?

Anyhoo... she's fine. Totally fine. And evidently quite mobile.

Speaking of great Louisa quotes, one of the other parents in Louisa's daycare classroom told me that yesterday he and Louisa's classmate were driving along in silence when suddenly the little girl piped up: "Weesa Jenniches looooves vegetables!" How awesome is that?

Finally, here's a video of Bridget from dinner tonight. She's just so dang excited to be at the table eating rice cereal, I almost can't stand it.

[The video upload didn't work last night - I will upload it to flickr tonight. Stay tuned.]

Breakfast Thoughts

This morning over her breakfast, Louisa asked me, "Mom, what's 'dude'?" I was busy trying to prepare Bridget's bottles for school, make myself a coffee, and eat a bowl of oatmeal, all at the same time (with varying degrees of success: I did eat the oatmeal, I made the coffee but then left it sitting forgotten on the counter and only remembered it when I was halfway to work-- and I thought that I got the bottles done well, but Bridget's daycare teacher just called to ask if those bottles are actually full of breastmilk instead of formula [and they are always full of breastmilk because Bridget has yet to have any formula] because I forgot to put the red rubber bands on them that signify breastmilk. This is completely beside my original point but I feel compelled to say that labelling the bottles with her name and date on both the bottle and the cap and getting those stupid rubber bands on there every day is one of those tasks that I will probably have fever dreams about at some point. Like, I keep labelling and labelling but I'm never done... or the tape just won't stick no matter what I do... or I can't get the rubber band around the bottle and then milk is spilling all over...)

Right, where was I? Oh yes, barely listening to my three-year-old who wakes up talk-talk-talking and pretty much doesn't stop until she falls asleep. "What's 'dude'?" she asked and at first I didn't understand what she was saying. I finally clued in and I was trying to figure out how to answer that one.

"Well, a dude is a man..." I began.

She interrupted me: "a man who isn't driving good?"


HA! I chalk it up to my awesome powers of self-restraint that she wasn't asking me "what's 'jackass'?" over breakfast.

Six Years

Six years ago today I made the best promise I've ever made. The other day, when I made that comment about how my family feels complete with my two girls? The unspoken part of that thought was that my family is inextricably built on the foundation of this amazing partnership:



I love this man more and more every day. He's everything I want in a husband. It has been 6 years and I hope we get 60 more.

Giggles

Giggles
Originally uploaded by carliches

This prety much speaks for itself.

Leaving the Newborn Days Behind Us

People. As of the past three days, Bridget now routinely rolls from her back to her belly. Next comes sitting up, eating food, crawling, talking, walking... college. My newborn is no longer a newborn. We're creeping up on five months: at this point in Louisa's life it occurred to me that life we had progressed beyond the really hard newborn stage. This time is different. The newborn stage never seemed that difficult. I think it's because this time, I didn't have to adjust myself to the reality of being constantly responsible for the well-being of another human being (who squalled when I didn't do things the way she liked).

This time, instead of the angst of a first-time parent, what I feel is a much keener sense of my own mortality. Maybe it's just that I'm a little older, or maybe it's because when Louisa was born all I knew was that she was my first child but with Bridget, she's not just my second child she's my last child. I'm pretty sure that the first thing I said in the delivery room after Bridget was born was "thank god I never have to do that again." And I do feel like that: I never want to be pregnant again and my family feels complete with these two awesome girls. It's just that, it goes so fast. Everyone says that. But damn is it true.

Here's a picture of Bridget in her UV-protectant sun suit (AKA that hazmat suit). The next time we go to the beach, she'll be old enough for sunscreen and eating sand.