Archives for the month of: January, 2013

In a few hours, the month of January 2013 will end, and we’ll be that much closer to April, when Baby Baby should be born, barring an early appearance. How are we already into week 31, I want to know?

For our little lovely, the baby is still a frequent topic of conversation, both during the day and at night, as she’s lying in her crib and about to nod off. We’ll do the call and response of “Mama!”, “Baby!”, she’ll be quiet, then she’ll interject something like these lines.*

“You’re Baby Baby’s mama, but you’re my mama, too.” (And of course, when her daddy’s around: “You’re Baby Baby’s daddy, but you’re my daddy, too.”)

“I’ll save some moaty for Baby Baby, and Baby Baby will save some moaty for me!”

“Baby Baby makes your belly big! Before, I made your belly big, but now, Baby Baby makes your belly big.”

Tonight in the kitchen, she patted my belly and said, “I love you, Baby Baby,” then told her daddy to “give her a kiss!” She often tells Baby Baby, “I’m your big sister!” Who knows how things will really go, when push (finally) comes to baby, but so far, she shows a lot of promise as a big sister. We’re excited about that, and at the same time, we’re trying to relish this last chunk of time with just her. Our sweet girl.

Our sweet girl is sometimes our sweets girl, too.

Our sweet girl is sometimes our sweets girl, too.

*Tonight, in addition to the above sorts of lines, she also asked, “Why did the queen yell at Alice?” because today, we watched Disney’s Alice in Wonderland after nearly finishing Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. The queen’s red-faced yelling – and yelling in general – upset her. As with other examples of Disneyfication, that’s not really how it goes in the book: Alice talks back! The queen mostly yells at other people! Alice doesn’t cry first about trying to get home and not being able to! Reading the book hasn’t negatively affected her at all; watching the movie has. *sigh* Guess we’ll stick to episodes of Word World, Dinosaur Train, and her new favorite, Diego…minimal (no?) cartoon violence and anger. She doesn’t like it better in real life, either; last weekend, from atop a piece of playground equipment, a little girl yelled at her to get off, and it made her cry. She’s sweet and not, I hope, mean-spirited, and she doesn’t like it when others are mean.

Sitting in the computer chair, in no danger to myself or anyone else, my sweet, sweet daughter came up to me and said, “Honey. Honey! You has to be cazhul [CAY*zhul – careful]!” 

Kids are mimics. This comes as no shock to any parent or to anyone who’s spent much time around children. Nonetheless, hearing your words come back to you, thankfully (this time!) in such a sweet and unexpected way, is always a bit of a surprise.

How much of what we say does she soak up? How much of what we say lingers with others? It doesn’t hurt to be the best possible version of ourselves as much of the time as we can. I’ll have to remember to be cazhul…

Marco! Polo!

I love you. I love you, too!

The second comment often follows the first (and, in the case of Marco, is part of what makes it problematic as a first-name option, in my opinion).

In our house, we have our own call and response. It’s generally a sleepytime thing, at pseudo-naptime or bedtime. “Mama!” she’ll say, sometimes in her normal voice, sometimes softly, sometimes with her own special inflection. “Baby!” I reply.

Although we haven’t read it in a while, I’m rather certain that she remembers this from Richard Scarry’s Funniest Storybook Ever. Flossie loses her doll into the bread-dough trough, and when a strange loaf of bread says, “Mama!” (which may be spelled “Momma!” in the story), Lowly helps solve the mystery. In the final story, in which Lowly’s birthday is being celebrated with an enormous cake, the doll is in the cake. The doll says, “Mama!” as Flossie runs toward is saying (you guessed it), “Baby!”

And so it was tonight. The past few days have been rough. It’s Wednesday, and since Sunday, she’s had a cold or some viral infection – a runny nose, tiredness, a cough which sometimes sounds a bit barking – and she even threw up once, last night, when she cried too hard (after not napping, she also couldn’t go to sleep and was beyond distraught). A trip to the doctor today confirmed it’s not the flu or anything obvious, and to our relief and her necessity, she’s now in bed – her converted-as-of-last-week toddler bed! – asleep. It took many rounds of our call and response. If I tried to keep quiet to encourage sleep, she’d remind me of my role: “Say ‘Baby!'” And I upheld my end of the bargain. Sometimes I’d get quiet to imply the need for quiet, for sleep.

And she sleeps. To call, to respond, to know that someone is there – we all need a little comfort, sometimes.