Mini Milestones

Yesterday, sitting on the edge of the lake, watching duckies, I asked Rebecca if she could clap her hands.  And she did!  Some of her claps are more clap-like than others, but she can clap.  I was so proud.  So is she--she'll stop *almost* anything she's doing to clap, if you ask her.

Becca also got some BIG girl pajamas this week, since she's getting past the onsies stage.  Here she is showing them off.

Big is still a major word in her "vocabulary." She does the big sign and touches my computer whenever she's near it, then grins from ear-to-ear while I play her big video. She can tell you her beach ball is big (she won't do it if you hold up the wiffle ball) and signs "big" if she sees something big on TV or in the yard.  So adorable.

Oh, and even though it makes me nervous, she's continuing to get better at holding herself up. 

As you can see, I'm still very protective.

My Sweetie

So Monday night after the cake was done and the baby asleep, I dug back through so old (and not so old) thoughts about Rich:  

He's handsome

 and outdoorsy (I think this first one was his 30th birthday trip--you'll notice he still wears the same thing on weekends, except his socks are shorter these days).

He's always up for a good time, and is a good friend.

He's a good brother,

a wonderful husband,

a loving (and empathetic) father,

and a wonderful dancer.

We're lucky to have him.

Pillow Talk

Sometime around 11:30 last night Rich and I were discussing birthdays.  After talking about how little we did for mine this year (a trip to Best Buy, no singing, no cake, no unwrapping), he said we should really start doing more for each other, starting with his, of course.  Did I mention his is TODAY?  Yep.  Happy Birthday, Rich.

I could write a whole thing about how much he means to me, but he doesn't read the blog, he "lives it"  (just like Pee Wee's Big Adventure).  So I'll just say I love him, he's great, and I'm lucky.  Now excuse me, but I have to go buy a cake.  And a LARGE box of candles.  And take the batteries out of the smoke detector.  

Funny Bunny

Rich is a terrible ventriloquist.  But he tries.  He takes Becca's stuffed animals and does little shows (we need to get some puppets) where they move up and down and say "Hello, Rebecca."  He thought she believed they were talking to her.

The other day Becca grabbed the bunny by the face, shook it, and said "hello" or something along those lines.  Guess he wasn't fooling anyone.

New Toy

It didn't look so much like drug paraphernalia in the box.  Oh well.

Smart Cookie

Rough morning.  Becca fussier than usual, but there is a shaving cream incident and I need to clean the bathroom blinds before it dries.  From the hallway, Becca stands in her walker and screeches at me until I pick her up.

Diaper, check.  Food, check.  

We move to the couch.  She calms down and starts her little game where she explores my teeth.  It's a game she does a lot.  She REALLY explores, as thorough as any hygienist.  So she reaches in my mouth and feels around, and then I say "teeth" and touch hers.  She reaches for mine again and touches my teeth.  But before I can do hers, she screams in my face.  Not normal behavior.  She reaches in again, touches my teeth, and screams.  Immediately we head to the freezer for a teether.  She curls up on my lap with it and is asleep in minutes.

This is the Post With All the Pictures

 Yesterday I plugged in my camera and was surprised at how many pictures I've let build up.  So I thought I'd clump them all together in this post . . . . 

The day before Rich's surgery we went to the swim beach at the lake.  I'm glad we took the time to relax, since things haven't been so easy since.

We played in the water

and spent time on the swings.

Then went for a swim.  She fell asleep on the boat (on my lap) before we got back.

Becca has a new adorable way of giving kisses.  She kisses her toys, us, others, and most adorably, herself (in the mirror).  

I just liked this one.

Here we are, shopping for little Jason's birthday present.  Notice the cart cover?  I wish everyone would . . .

If I could get her to wear a hat, I'd get one that says "Careful, I bite."

And here are a few family pictures from the birthday party last Sunday:

With Big Jason, Nanny at the table, and Aunt Maureen in the background

With Great Uncle Mike

A couple of swimming pool pics--the birthday boy on his new raft.

Rich wanted an action shot--Grandmom Ellie's in the back, the birthday boy in the front, and his grandpa (on the other side) is controlling the oars.

Becca with Great Aunt Maureen (and part of Great Uncle Mike)

Becca with Cousin Kaitlyn (and even less of Mike)

Becca should get a tee shirt that reads "I went to Philadelphia and all I got was a lousy picture of me and Dad in the Chili's around the corner from the hospital."  We could write in on the napkin, but it won't stay on her head.  Rich's dad went in on Monday (that's two Riches two Mondays in a row) so we went in to visit.  This was lunch.

I had woken up that morning with the vivid memory of the creepiest fish dream I'd had in a long time.  I don't like fish--they skeeve me with their not blinking and their mouths (and don't start with the see through eyelids that do blink--it doesn't make me feel any better).  And I realize the irony of marrying an aquatic biology major, but anyway the dream involved cannibalizing fish and one that puffed up with air and turned into a space ship.  I told Rich about it but I don't think he really listened.  

As we were packing up the car he casually mentioned that depending on how things went he'd like to stop at the Aquarium after.  Yes, after that dream I really want to see fish.  But Rich still isn't eating solid food (hence Chili's for soup) and was exhausted from lack of sleep and his slow starvation diet.  So no fish for me.  Notice how thin his face looked?  At this point he's about ten pounds down from where he was a week ago.  (Sadly, I am not on a sympathy starvation diet--in fact my appetite increases with every meal he doesn't eat.)

We picked Rich Sr. up from the hospital Tuesday morning (angioplasty) and, thankfully, he's doing well.  I dropped the two Riches and Becca off at grandpa's and went to fill a prescription at the local Sears Essentials.  Sometimes I think I should take a picture of the store, because we're sure it's not going to last long (empty, always empty--and across the street from a Walmart).  But all big box stores look the same anyway.  I came out with two swimming pools.  Overkill?  Perhaps, but they were half off, and the little one was five bucks.  I blew up the little one and Rich attached the hose to the laundry room sink so we could add warm water and Becca and I hopped in.  It's really little.  (Oh, and since Rich can't eat, Popsicles have become popular at our house, and Becca gets a lick here and there, too.)

I love how she splashes--she screws her face up and closes her eyes and moves her hand almost down to the water then chickens out and stops short.  Then she tries again and hits the water with this adorable combination of joy and horror.

She's adorable.

But the bad news:  While picking up the pools  I missed Becca's first crawl.  Three moves forward and then a lunge.  The good news:  She crawled!  

Fighting Out of the Red Corner . . .

So we're eight months in, and still have no real schedule.  We do, however, have a few rituals (some would call them "bad habits"), mostly centered around the "Big Bed."  

Unless Rich has an early appointment, morning usually starts with Becca wiggling around in the co-sleeper (no longer attached to the bed), and me trying to peek in and see she's okay without making eye contact.  Once eye contact is made, sleep time is over.  Most mornings, her wiggling will also force Rich awake; he'll get up to use the bathroom and brush his teeth.  If I can avoid eye contact during this time, he will pick her up and change her diaper before plopping her down in the Big Bed.  If not, the job falls to me.  We all giggle and play in the bed together until Becca realizes she's hungry; then Rich runs out to the kitchen to start his tea and grab a bottle.  If it's early enough he gets to enjoy his tea in bed while I feed Becca; if not, he gets ready while she eats.  

For a while Becca started taking her morning nap on the Big Bed.  It started anywhere from ten to eleven thirty, and I never knew how long it would last.  It seemed at least twice as long if she took it in the Big Bed (generally 1-1 1/2 hours) vs. the crib or pack-and-play.  She fights sleep, and sometimes it's no picnic getting her down.  The easiest way is if I lay down with her and rub her back and face until she falls asleep, or cuddle her up in my lap.

Unfortunately, all this has resulted in our little darling deciding that the Big Bed is her right. But since she's becoming increasingly mobile, I don't trust that a circle of pillows will contain her. So she's napping in the crib.   And the nighttime battle for the Big Bed is underway.  

When bedtime rolls around we put her between us, and she rolls back and forth, cuddling with each of us, until she wears herself out and cuddles up to go to sleep.  Then one of us moves her to the co-sleeper for the night.  Or until later that night/morning, when she wakes back up.  Some nights I win the battle, occasionally rubbing her back when she wakes up, leaving her in her little bed, and some nights I don't, pulling her in bed with me and passing out together, or laying half awake while she repeatedly sleep kicks me, battling for territory.  I know I can't keep this up forever, that I should want her to be independent, but in truth, I love the cuddles, even though I often wake up with fewer than 5 inches for myself in the morning.

The Hospital

It's been quite a week.  Rich had surgery for sleep apnea on Monday, and is nowhere near recovered.  They took out his tonsils, adenoids, uvula, and trimmed up his soft palate.  Gross.  
The doctor said the pain wouldn't get ANY better for 10 days, and apparently he wasn't joking.  From what Rich tells me, it's a horribly sharp pain every time he swallows.  Which means he isn't eating anything solid, and isn't really sleeping.  Poor guy.

If you ever need to move through a hospital quickly, by the way, don't bring a baby.  EVERY nurse will stop you to chat.  We left for the hospital at 6 am, and stayed until almost 7.  Rebecca made at least a hundred friends in between.  She was the life of the surgical waiting room.  And a real trooper too, making hardly a whimper even though her naps were all thrown off.  She had a minute or so crying spell when we got home, which may have been because dad didn't come with us, but then she tangled my hair in her hands, cuddled up, and fell right to sleep.

Rich's doctor said he'd be released at 8 am, so Tuesday morning I flopped Rebecca into the car seat and took off, reaching the hospital before 7.  I don't think I made it to his room before 7:15, though, since, again, every nurse I passed had to stop and talk to Rebecca and lament that they didn't have time to hold her (not asking how I'd feel about it).  I kept the baby wipes within quick reach, prepared to wipe her down as soon as they were out of sight.  I still can't believe strangers, especially strangers changing bedpans, touch other people's babies.  At least we were out of there somewhere around nine.

Wednesday I took Rebecca to the grocery store, where, for the first time, I used the grocery cart seat for her without Rich being around.  (Having a second parent seems to keep people back a little more.)  Before I've used the jeep carrier or kept her in her car seat or stroller.  Once again, it took twice as long to get that I needed done.  More random people wanting to touch her--kiss her hand, even!  More baby wipes.   And honestly, if I'm paranoid enough to use one of the seat covers because of random cart germs, what makes you think your random germs are less scary than random cart germs?  Seriously.

And the unexpected result of all of this attention?  Becca now expects EVERYONE to pay attention to her, and will stare down anyone who doesn't.  I hope it doesn't last too long.

Soooooooooo BIG!

Rich was just saying the other day that we need to start keeping track of the words we know Rebecca knows. Off the top of my head, this list (which I'll have to finish later) includes eat, baba, hungry, poop, diaper, mom, dad, sippy, thirsty, inside, outside, fish, tree, kiss, jump, and my new favorite: big.

Ellie's Birthday

We got together last night for Gradmom Ellie's birthday.  Although most of the night my camera stayed in the diaper bag, I managed to catch a couple of girl shots.  Here's Grandma, Becca, and Cousin Kaitlyn, and then the girl cousins together.  It should be illegal to put so much beauty all on the same couch.  There must be an ugly couch somewhere else in the universe, balancing it out.

Finger Foods

***Remember that post I hadn't finished?  Here it is, in all it's outdated glory---

There are two, and only two, things my little girl does not put in her mouth: finger foods and sand.  My glasses, Rich's glasses, the power cord for my laptop, the remote, my cell phone, grass, sticks, my hair, my shirt, our sheets, other kids' toys . . . these are no problem.  But give her a stash of broken cereal bits and putting it in her mouth is the last thing on her mind.

Don't take that to mean she doesn't like them; if I pick one up she opens her mouth wide and eagerly chomps away, reminiscent of the carp near the paddle boats at Lagoon. 

And it's not that she can't pick them up; she loves to pick them up and show them to me.  Last Tuesday she even put one in my mouth.  I've even taken some excellent (thank you for noticing) pictures where it appears she's eating them, but it's all an illusion; our little Doug Henning was palming.

Last night Rich thought she ate a green bean, but I have my doubts.  Still, they do look a lot like the lake's water plants, and she was all over those at our play group yesterday.

But I still had to include the old post for two reasons:  the pictures and the Henning video (it reminds me of Al--was that Halloween?).  I miss the Muppet Show.

Kisses

Shortly after I told everyone about the pregnancy Liza suggested I sign up for the weekly emails from BabyCenter.com.  Each Tuesday I looked forward to reading about how my little one was developing, and seeing ultrasounds/drawings of babies at her stage.  Although I don't wait for them like I used to, I still get the emails, which include topics relevant to the baby's current stage.  Most of the articles I pass right over, but I happened to catch one last week about how babies start giving kisses at this stage.  As you know, however, my child is incredibly advanced (insert wink).

Becca started giving kisses sometime before we left for Florida.  I remember clearly someone laughing at me in the airport when he overheard me talking with her about her sloppy kisses all over my face.  ("That one had some tongue in it!")  Last week I even got one that had an adorable *smack* sound to it.  But she's had no interest in giving me any this week, and this is what Rich is getting:

Breaking the Sand Barrier

Last week I started a post that I never finished, and never "published." No surprise, really, but this time it mattered. I had started with this sentence:

There are two, and only two, things my little girl does not put in her mouth: finger foods and sand.

That sentence no longer applies.  She'd played in the sandbox at the park and at the lake before (and even the beach in Florida), but apparently the Jersey Shore was too tempting.  

And even though the water was shockingly cold, Rich still managed to put in a little surfing time the next morning

while Becca and I put in some beach time.

I'm not sure if I have another aquatic biologist on my hands, but she's certainly a Daddy's girl.

More pictures from the weekend are coming soon . . . .