Buh-bye

So, Jane has perfected her wave.  This happened yesterday afternoon and I immediately acted like a fool and went NUTS.  "My BAYBEEEE!!!!  SHE CAN WAVE!!!!!" You know, waving, winning the Nobel Peace Prize...whatever.  

Anyway, today went something like this:

ME: Jane!  Say Buh-Bye!  Say Buh Bye!  Wave at Mama!  Say Buh-Bye!  Say Buh Bye! Look at Mama!  Say Buh-Bye!!

JANE: (looking away...at anything other than me) Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da (because HE carried the baby for nine months).

ME: Jane!!  Buh-Bye!  Look at Mama!!  (Yes Jane, look at Mama act like an idiot!!) Say Buh-Bye!!  Buh-Bye!  Wave for Mama!  Buh-Bye!! You can do it!!  Buh-Bye!!

JANE: (finally lifting one, tiny baby hand and giving a wave at herself) Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da Da

ME:  THAT'S RIGHT!!  WHAT A SMART BABY!!  YOU WAVED!!  GOOD GIRL!!!  SO BIG!! JANE IS SO BIG!!  WHAT A GOOD GIRL!!   Jane!! Do it again!! Say Buh-Bye!  Say Buh-Bye! Say Buh-Bye!! 

You can totally see where this is going...

But it's so funny, because every time she does this wave, she looks at her hand and gets this expression like, "What is this??  Why is my hand doing this? Am I MAKING this happen?"  Probably what she is really thinking is, "Anything to get that woman over there to shut up!"  

Today when she was napping (or NOT napping, would be more appropriate) I went into her room to give her the pacifier that I was certain had fallen to the floor.  When she saw me, she stopped her wailing and raised her arms to be picked up.  I lifted her out of the bed, cuddled with her for a  minute and then laid her back in with her pacifier.  She started crying again, but this time the crying was accompanied by the most pitiful little wave you ever did see.  It was as if she was saying, "Look how cute I am Mama!  Circus Baby will perform for you and you will feel sorry for her and remove her from her crib, no?" No, I didn't remove her, but I did give her an extra kiss.  

This video is evidence of my high pitched, stupid sounding voice as I try to coax her into waving.  I cannot believe I am actually putting this out there for all you to listen to.  Probably you should invest in some ear plugs first.  Anyway, she DOES wave twice in this video.  Once in the very beginning, then you get to listen to me acting like a fool (but you can enjoy the cute baby while your ears bleed) and then she waves again at the very end.  

Baby Laughter...

Jane is fascinated by 5 things....Jay, Annie, the two cats and the dog.  I recorded her laughing with Annie today.  Prior to Annie walking in the room, she was inconsolable.  Annie walked in, the tears immediately stopped and the laughter began.  So, this just goes to show me that next year? I'll be dropping her off in Annie's kindergarten class when things get tough.  

At Nine Months

Dear Jane,

You have now been here longer than I was pregnant with you.  That is a concept so strange to me that I cannot even put it into words.  How can that be?  I was only pregnant for 35 weeks, but that was the absolute LONGEST 35 weeks of my entire life.  How is it possible that THESE nine months have flown by?  That now that I want time to slow down, it seems to be speeding up to a pace I cannot keep up with?

I have been using the phrase, "This time last year..." a lot lately.  A Lot.  And this time last year I can tell you exactly what we were doing.  We were painting your nursery, and I was having fits of hysteria.  Not because I was having a baby, but because I was having preterm labor issues among other things and I was truly afraid that I was painting your room a fabulous shade of "Paris Pink" that I was going to regret terribly if something went wrong.  Nice attitude, huh?  Honestly though, I can remember standing in your closet, inspecting all the work that Daddy did and wondering how emotionally painful it was going to be if we had to repaint it all.  And taking the tags off your clothes to wash them before your arrival?  Daddy literally had to FORCE me to do it.  I wouldn't even pack a hospital bag for you.  This woman?  Your mother?  She has some Issues.  

Oh but now...now Miss Jane, you are happy, and healthy and LOUD.  And I delight in every single baby scream you let loose.  Even the ones that make the dog run for cover and the cats flee, leaving little claw marks on the couch as they scramble for safety.  You are that loud.  That's been the funniest thing lately.  You have discovered the volume control on your voice and you love to go from whispering, "BabababaBABABABABABABABABA" to screaming as loud as you possibly can.  Jay and Annie think this is so funny, and they encourage you every chance they get.  Just one more way that I am outnumbered in more ways than I can even imagine.  

You are crawling everywhere, pulling up, standing (when you don't realize it) and so close to clapping that I expect it is just days away. You started to sign "milk" today, although Daddy won't count it yet because you have only done it twice.  But it was at exactly the right time, both times, so I'm counting it.  I'm your Mama and I will always give you the benefit of the doubt.  Your two bottom teeth have FINALLY made their way through and you are sleeping much better.  And because of THAT, I am a much nicer person to live with.  

Jane, I have a question for you though. Why does 5:45 pm always send you right over the edge?  Can you actually TELL time?  Do we have a genius baby on our hands here?  It doesn't matter if you wake from your afternoon nap at 2:30 or 4:30, when that clock hits 5:45 we had all BETTER TAKE COVER.  The screaming begins.  And child...you can scream.  Not only do you scream though, you have this noise of displeasure that I cannot describe.  The closest thing I can come to describing it is to say that it reminds me of "Mr. Peepers" on those old Saturday Night Live skits. Or maybe even the Tasmanian devil.  It's a lot of raspberry blowing, spitting, with the occasional angry consonant sound thrown in.  You do this whenever you are mad about anything.  Diaper changes, falling down, having sharp objects and house plants pried out of your hands.  I imagine this noise, properly translated, would be something like this, "Why.  Why, oh Mother, do I have to live in this world where I must lie on my back to have you change my diaper?  Why must I live in a place where the clothes TOUCH MY BODY and the wind dares to blow across my skin??  The injustice of it all pains me greatly."

But, when you are happy, you are SOOOOO happy.  Yesterday you discovered the joys of wrestling. I laid on the floor and you crawled all over me, burying your head in my shoulder, giving me wet, open mouth kisses, and giggling as I grabbed hold of you and rolled over while tickling you.  You thought that was the most fun ever!  Annie joined us and you laughed and laughed as I tickled her.  And you screamed in anticipation as I said, "I'mmmmmmm gonnaaaaaaa geeeeeeeeetttttttt YOU!"  And on the "YOU"  I tickled both of you at the same time and you fell over you were laughing so hard.    

So this is my first Mother's Day as the mother of three.  It has been such a special day.  Last year was spent painting your nursery.  Anticipation, excitement, and fear were the major emotions.  This year?  Laughter and contentment.  Thank God for that.  

You bring as much joy to me as Jay and Annie do...and that says a lot, my little girl.  I just never imagined that that much joy could be multiplied by three.  

I love you,

Mama

The Money Gun...

So, it's been one of THOSE months.  You know how things are going along swimmingly and then all of a sudden, BOOM...everything breaks all at once.  My father always says, "Get out the money gun!" and that's exactly what we have been doing since April.  Um...the money gun?  It will need to be reloaded soon. 

First it was the pool motor.  Jamie and I have a long standing joke (if you can count the two summers we've been in Oklahoma as "long standing") with that pool.  I keep telling him that I'm going to get a sign to place above the pool equipment that reads, "How hard could it be?"  Because THAT is the sentiment that we run across EVERY TIME we do something with that pool.  I keep referring to it as "that pool".  We really do love "that pool".  Unless we are having to do something to FIX "that pool".  Even the simplest of tasks turn into something major when we are dealing with it.  But I digress.  Yes, a new motor.  And as soon as got that thing hooked up, bubbles started coming out of the jets where bubbles should not BE.  We are ignoring the bubbles.  Pretending that they are a nice jet feature to our pool.  We will be blind to them for at least another two weeks.  First we have to get through the shower remodel.

The shower remodel??  Why, YES.  "Shower remodel" has such a nice ring to it.  Like something you would choose to do.  You know, add some lovely spa features...make it really nice...that sort of thing.  Or, it could just be one tiny little tile that has fallen off.  Not even a full tile, just a half of one, right where the wall meets the floor.  No biggie?  But, when we called to get an estimate on just putting that tiny tile back in, the tile guy informed us we would have to gut the whole thing and start over.  Surely he was kidding?  Except that three other tile guys told us the same thing.  So either they are in some sort of conspiracy to send Jamie that much closer to a heart attack, or they are actually telling the truth.  Rats.  The work on that began last week.  But not before we replaced the garage door.

Oh...riiiiiight.  The garage door incident.  Otherwise known as, "The Day Malinda Can No Longer Say 'I Told You So' When Jamie Messes Up". Not that I do that.  Much.  So, I was headed to pick Jay up from school.  It was a lovely day, full of sunshine, and we decided to walk.  I got Jane loaded into the stroller, Annie on her bike, and then used the keypad to shut the garage door.  As it was coming down, I noticed that the car was not pulled all the way into the garage.  "WAAAAAAAIIIIIIITTTTTT"  I cried in slow motion. But the garage door?  It is not voice activated.  And as I discovered about four seconds later, it also does not retract.  It dug into my car, sending me into a panicked sort of chicken dance steppy thing in the driveway as I chanted, "No! No! No!  Daddy is going to kill me!!!"  Then, mercifully, the garage door finally stopped.  I assumed it had come off its track since it wouldn't move.  When Jamie got home (and he DIDN'T kill me, or even make me squirm for that matter-I was sure I'd be on double, secret probation.) he said he thought he could fix it over the weekend.  The weekend came and when he actually looked at it, he realized that door was in bad shape.  All the hardware had popped off since the force of the NON-RETRACTING door NOT RETRACTING as it continued to try to close on my car (thus NOT RETRACTING) had really messed things up.  Stupid non-retracting door.   So we called a garage door guy.  I'll give you one guess about what HE said.  Guess what though....my new door?  IT retracts. 

So.  The motor.  The shower.  The garage door.  All in the last three weeks. Oh...and I forgot to mention the oven we replaced a few months ago since it caught fire.  And that fire extinguisher you have in your kitchen?  You should not used that to put out an oven fire.  It will only mean that you have to replace your oven.  Yeah...didn't know that.   

It happens though.  Part of home ownership...blah blah blah.  Then we came home from soccer games today, opened up the back door, and Darla was standing there on three legs.  To be clear here, she HAS a fourth leg, she just wouldn't put any weight on it.  She looked terrible.  We checked her out, tried to figure out what could have possibly happened to her.  The best I can come up with is a UPI.  You know, "Unidentified Potty Injury".  All I know is DARLA'S not telling.   The three legged walking continued. She wouldn't put any weight on that leg at all. I was just sure it was broken.  So, Jamie headed off to the vet with Darla in tow.  I was WORRIED about her. This dog, who drives me crazy half the day.  She goes through the bathroom trash cans incessantly, barks while Jane is sleeping, wants to play endless games of fetch while I am trying to work, hounds all visitors who come to our door . But she follows me around whenever we are home, she looks at me as if I hung the moon.  She is my walking partner, my cooking partner, and she loves my children with a devotion that I would have NEVER imagined could come from a dog. She's my friend and I love that dumb dog.  A really, really lot.  And three hundred dollars later, we find out she has a bad sprain.  This time? Totally worth it.