The Art of Conversation... With Abigail

The Babblegail is three days shy of turning 19 months old. A few weeks ago David and I counted the words in her vocabulary. We knew she was a chatterbox – we wanted to see just how much of one. Over several days, we counted 110 recognizable words that she uses to communicate, not including names of family members or animal sounds. (If we added those in it would have been at least 30 more words.) We stopped counting after a while because we realized she was learning a new word or two every day.

Can the average listener interpret all her words? I don't know. But here are some of my new favorites.

At dinner:

Abigail is in her high chair, chugging a cup of milk. She burps. She looks at me, surprise in her bright eyes, and says, “Bup!”

“Did you burp?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she answers.

“After your burp you should say, 'Excuse me'. That’s the polite thing to do.”

She thinks for a moment, looks at me thoughtfully and burps again.

"What do you say?" I prompt her.

"Ah-boogie!” she says, and smiles.

Also at dinner:

Abigail is learning how to use a spoon and is eating yogurt. Most of the yogurt is ending up everywhere but her mouth. It's a rather sloppy affair, and Abigail knows it. Each night, she looks down at her tray, up at me, and says, "UH OH! It a bih meh!"

At bedtime:

Abigail is in her crib, pulling her blanket up to her face.

“Night night Daddy. Ub-ew, Daddy,” she says.

“I love you too, Abigail,” Daddy answers, smiling.

A pause.

“Fwee!” she cries happily.

And another pause.

“Nine!”

In other news, Abigail is also developing her own sense of style. She chose these shoes and hat the other day.

 I think she gets it from her Aunt Lauren.

Lunchtime

Look at our hilarious and adorable kid.

She also knows the sounds for a duck and a snake, but I forgot to ask for those. Oma, Bapa, Nana, & Gragon are her grandparents. So far she hasn't been brave enough to try any other names. Sorry Auntie M and Lauren... and all you other aunts and uncles. We'll keep trying.

On Holiday

The trouble with blogging as infrequently as I do is that when I finally sit down to blog, I have too many things I want to say. Like right now. I know I ought to talk about our now three-week-old vacation to Ocean City, MD. But I also want to tell you about David and the Bee, and David vs. That Tree Root. And I want you to hear about and celebrate with me because today I got a "Save the Date" email for the annual Best Fall Party Ever (not its real name). And I suspect one of my friends might be pregnant. All post-worthy stuff, at least according to this blog's standards.

But that's too many topics for one post. So I'll stick with vacation. But now that it's so far gone, I can't think of much to say, other than this: My family goes to Ocean City, Maryland every summer. I've posted about it before - a week of gluttony and sun-worship. I'm a big fan, despite the fact that I don't actually like swimming in the ocean. But this year was a little different. Still indulgent and gluttonous, definitely - just not so much sun-worshiping for this Yeager. I was conscientious and careful for the first time, ever. And it was torture. And it will be that way for the rest of my life, thanks to my dermatologist. Sigh.

Also different - and probably more important - is that we brought a toddler with us this year. Well, when we left for vacation she wasn't a toddler, but by the time we returned home, she was. Abigail took her first steps in front of the whole family (about 25 people), during our "Appetizer Night".

It was Abigail's first time seeing the beach. First time in anything bigger than a bathtub, and first experience with sand. And she loved every minute of it. Here she is with her Aunt Lauren and her cousin, Luke.

She showed no fear whatsoever, which thrilled her father, aunt, and grandmother - and worried me just a bit.

Long Time No Blog

All five of you who actually read my blog will most likely already have seen this photo on Facebook, but my first child's first birthday merits a blog post and a photo, don't you think? And she looks so cute. Who would know that only seconds beforehand she'd been crying (and would be again)? Alas, it's true - Birthday Number 1 (or two, really) was rather too overwhelming for the Babblegail. Mommy and Daddy were glad for the leftover cupcakes, though.

I can't believe we have a one year old. An 18 lb., 2 oz, 30 inch tall, 7 word speaking, almost walking one year old. Her newest word is "balah" which means "balloon". She is fascinated by her birthday balloons that are still floating around the house. (Thanks for those, Oma.) She's learning how to drink out of a sippy cup. She'll walk holding someone's hand, but isn't brave enough to stand or take a step on her own.

This time last year she'd only been home from the hospital a day (remember that she spent a week in the NICU - I remember leaving for the hospital to visit her while our 4th of July block party was in full swing) and we were learning how to nurse. She was all of 7 lbs. We slept on the couch (with her on my chest) those first few nights home together. And now she's a pro at nursing - and while I look forward tothe freedom of her being weaned, the thought of it also makes me cry.


We figure our next kid will be chubby, sedentary, and snuggly - everything Abigail wasn't (and isn't). It's funny - I'm ready to start trying for number two, but every time I think about adding another one to the family, I get a little sad knowing it means Abigail won't be the center of attention any more. I know it sounds silly, but does it make sense? I think Vid kind of understands what I mean, but it has a different nuance for him. He wondered aloud the other day if Abigail would be his favorite, even after her siblings come along. I think she might be.

I'm Sure She Was Trying to Be Nice...

My child is being kind to mommy today and is taking a marathon nap, so I'm grabbing my opportunity to have some "me" time. I haven't blogged in a while - so now's my chance. How far can I get before she wakes up?

Illinois is sitting under, what, another foot of snow? Next year, when I hint that I'm looking foward to the first snowfall, someone remind me that I hate February. And early this morning we had an earthquake. How weird is that? (Woken up out of a sound sleep and rather befuddled and terrified, I first thought there had been a tornado, and then maybe that our house was sitting atop a sinkhole that was finally threatening to swallow us.)

Anyway.

Mostly I want to talk today about the woman who was behind me in line at Aldi on Monday. I didn't like her very much, which makes me feel like a terrible person. Here's the story, as fast as I can tell it in my remaining free time:

I had to go grocery shopping. We also had to visit the pediatrician at 2:00. After the doctor, Abigail is shot, so running errands afterward is not an option. So I tried to plan out my day. The Abster and I were up at our normal time, but she chose to nap for only 20 minutes that morning. So after her lunchtime-ish feeding, I decided I better pack her into the car and get to the grocery store before it was time to go to the doctor. I bundled her into her puffy white Ralphie suit and stuffed her (screaming) into the car. Off to Aldi we went, only an hour to go before we needed to be at the doctor's office.

Once there, I discovered that Aldi (as far as I could tell) had not a single grocery cart with a working buckle on the child seat. So I stuffed her in the seat, tied her down with my enormous scarf, and held onto her with one hand. We raced around the store stuffing this week's groceries into the cart. At the front, I discovered only ONE register was open - and that I had left my wallet in the car. Untying A, I left my cart and raced outside to get my money.

Back inside the line was gowing longer, and A had had enough of this errand stuff. I stuffed her back into the child seat, but she was having none of it. She looked up at me, arched her back, and started to scream. The lady behind me (who looked exactly like Liza Minelli in her older years) stuck her face in front of Abigail's and said, "Oooh, baby girl, what's wrong? Are you spoiled? Are you spoiled?"

Um, excuse me?

I smiled sweetly and said, "No, it's just been a long morning." She was still arching, and I was afraid she would wiggle out of the seat, so I picked her up.

Silence. She looked at me, doe-eyed.

"Ooooh, you are spoiled!" squeals the Liza-Lady. "Look at that! Mommy picks you up and you stop crying right away! Spoiled! So bad!"

I took a deep breath. I had to focus on getting my cart full of groceries onto the belt with one hand. Liza-Lady decided to help me (I murmured my thanks) as she continued talking.


"My son was the same way. Still is the same way. So spoiled.  Wants everything his way. And now he's 46. He just called me and told me he's going to motorcycle across the country. 'What motorcycle?' I ask. 'The one I built,' he says. Eesh. 46. Motorcycling. So spoiled. So awful."


I kept stacking groceries on the belt. "I think she just needs a nap," I protested.


"Ooh, but you should look out, Mama. You're gonna spoil her."


Then the lady behind Liza-lady pipes up. "Oh, I don't know. I always picked up my kids when they were crying. They want you, they want you. They're kids. And they're okay."


I flashed her a grateful look, smiled close-lipped at the Liza-lady, zipped my card though the scanner, and got the heck out of there. I bagged my groceries in the car, with Abigail sitting in her carseat, where, thankfully, she fell asleep immediately.


Why, oh why, do strangers give out mothering advice?

My Tuesdays

 

And sometimes my Wednesdays, too. Abigail and Benjamin hang out in our living room. As you can see, they have a grand good time together. 

Benjamin chewed Abigail's clippy butterfly toy the entire time he was here today - an hour and a half. Hey, whatever floats his boat, I guess.

Funny Aunt Lauren

We took this the day after Thanksgiving. (Sorry for the blurry start - I was still getting the hang of things.)

The Animal Kingdom

Well, Thanksgiving came and went, and I have yet to take and post pictures of what was in the mystery package from Oma. Basically, it was great. It was Christmas in a box. Soon, I will post pictures - and hopefully a video - of some of the fun.

In other news, one of Abigail's favorite books is Sandra Boynton's Moo, Baa, La, La La.  I am proud to say it is the first little-kid book I have memorized.

"A cow says moo.
A sheep says baa.
Three singing pigs say, "La la la!"
"No, no!" you say. "That isn't right!"
The pigs say "oink!" all day and night.
Rhinocerouses snort and snuff.
And little dogs go ruff ruff ruff.
Some other dogs go bow wow wow
and cats and kittens say meow.
Quack says the duck.
A horse says neigh.
It's quiet now. What do YOU say?"

Mommy and Abigail have been battling bad colds since Friday night. We're sneezing and sniffling and huffing and puffing, and we're generally plain old fussy. (Lucky David.) So guess which line keeps running though my head?

Yup. Pretty much.

What Naptime Looks Like in Our House

Peanut Butter Cookies and Coffee for Breakfast Do Not Help Lose the Baby Weight

But they were good.

I overslept today. My alarm was set and went off, but I apparently had other plans. I don't remember my alarm, but I do remember opening my eyes, rolling over, and looking at the clock at 8:30 AM. 8:30. That's ridiculous.

I have an excuse, though. Babystyles has changed her routine lately. She's not sleeping through the night anymore, waking up one to three times during the evening to fuss about something. And then she's sleeping late into the morning to make up for lost time. Like right now - it's 9:16 and she's snoozing peacefully. I just went into the nursery and turned on the lights and pulled her blankets off of her - but still she snores.

It makes sense, I guess. She wasn't napping much during the day, but she was sleeping through the night. Then I tried to encourage longer nap times during the day, and now she's waking up overnight. Though I'm annoyed and tired, it's hard to decide which I prefer - an uninterrupted night of sleep, or a chance to do my own thing during the day.

I guess it's time to try a real, honest-to-goodness schedule. A consistent wake time in the morning and a (more) consistent bedtime at night.

But, poop. That means I'll have to get up earlier, which means I'll be tired and sleepy more often - and at the times when she's most awake. Seems like an unfair trade off.

Birthday!

Happy 4 Month Birthday to Abigail!

And when I asked her how she felt about her birthday...

A Bit of Gloating

So, I haven't blogged for a while because... well, I haven't had much to say. I could bore you with the small details of Abigail's development, or gush about how she is probably the perfect child... but I know better. I know all new moms probably feel that way at some point. And frankly, though David and I might be enthralled with the fact that she is now blowing raspberries (who knew "phptps" was a linguistically developmental milestone?), you don't necessarily care.

I will, however, post a photo. This was taken a few weeks ago when David and I visited Wisconsin with a few friends. I was snapping pictures of the group, when Abigail caught sight of me.

Ah, the benefits of being at home! It's abundantly clear these days that she prefers Mom to Dad. So I found it immensely gratifying to see her crane her little body around her father's shoulder in order to keep me in view.

My friend A tells me not to let it get to my head. She claims, "Enh, as soon as Abigail's a sentient being, she'll prefer her father over you. That's just the way it is."

And I know she's right. But I'm reveling in my moments of Mom-glory for now.

First Day Without Daddy

On Thursday evening Abigail rolled over (back-to-tummy) for the first time. Her accomplishment was met with cheers and applause all around. She was 11.5 weeks old.

This morning, David got up and went to work for the first time in 12 weeks. Yup. Today marks my first "real" day of being a stay-at-home-Mom.

I can't believe how quickly the time went. It's been such a blessing to have David at home, experiencing the first three months of Abigail's life with me. He's been such a help to me. As we've moved from two to one income and started the journey of parenting, we've seen God provide in good ways. We discovered we can happily spend 24 hours a day together (despite the initial weeks of new-parent stress), and we've praised God as he's provided extra income and help from friends to meet our needs. David has been busy with paying gigs, and has received a great deal of encouragement about his music and songwriting efforts.

It's 12:46 PM. I have a big long list of stuff I'd like to do this week (laundry, coffee with a friend, catching up on emails, studying for Bible Study at church, reorganizing some closets, running errands, cooking, etc.). That list in and of itself is sort of a wonder to me. This is my new stage in life: being "busy at home". I'm excited about it. I'm enamored with my little girl, and excited that this new stage means I get to focus on building relationships with people at my church, finding new ways to serve, and of course, caring for and teaching Abigail.

That said, I thought I might mention how today has gone in actuality. For starters, I am still in sweats - spit up covered sweats, to be exact. Abigail has wet through one outfit and is currently asleep in the second (also spit up covered).

(An aside: Remember how I said I liked my cloth diapers? I'm starting to second guess that. I've got the diapers cinched as tightly as they go, and they still leak, despite the fact that they leave little red marks on Abigail's legs. When I put in extra stuffing it seems to help, but then I worry I'm going to give the kid back problems because when she lays down, she's on an incline, with her little butt above her head. That can't be good for bone development. I pinched her leg in the snaps accidentally today and she screamed, which made me feel awful. And I can't even count how many times I've done laundry in the past few weeks. I don't know if it's worth the effort. Maybe I'm not as green as I thought I could be...)

To continue: There are dirty dishes in the kitchen, and a pile of unpaid bills sitting on our coffee table. I haven't written any of the emails I meant to, and the dirty laundry is still sitting in the corner, staring at me. I know I'm not cooking dinner - won't make it to the store today - so we're eating Mac & Cheese tonight. Food of the gods, that.

So David's going to come home and ask me what I did all day. And I'll say,"Fed her, changed her, cleaned her, fed her, changed her, cleaned her, cleaned me, fed her, changed her, made the bed." And he'll just sort of look at me a little dubiously. But that's okay.

Hmmmm

So, David left for rehearsal about an hour ago. I puttered around: called my father, dusted a bit, opened up our webcam thinking I would load it onto the computer, put it down, dusted some more. All with a kid in one arm.

Finally realizing that my left arm was numb from carting Abi-girl around, I placed her under her play gym, figuring she could chat it up with her friend Mr. Cardinal while I checked my email.

She squealed with glee and began batting her toys around, gurgling and babbling loudly. Content, I plopped down on the couch and opened up the laptop. I grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV.

Silence.

I look up from the screen and see my 10 week old's eyes glued to a commercial for Glee. She's been watching TV silently for 10 minutes now.

Should I be worried?

And Then There Were Three

Abigail turned a month old on Wednesday. A month. I know it's not much, but it's hard to believe.

I've been up since six AM. Abigail woke wanting to eat, so we did. She ate at 11:00 PM, 3:00 AM, and again at 6. After breakfast she was bright eyed and bushy tailed, as the saying goes. And the sun was up. So I had a choice - try to lull her back to sleep so I could climb back in bed next to David (who, incidentally, is still there), or stay up and enjoy my baby until she conked back out. She's asleep now - so maybe I should be, too. Instead I'm enjoying a cup of decaf (funny, BA (Before Abigail) the words "enjoy" and "decaf" would never have been in the same sentence), a slice of banana bread, and quiet time in front of my computer. No more leisurely Saturday mornings in bed, I guess. I can probably kiss Sunday afternoon naps goodbye for a while, too. At least Sunday afternoon naps like they used to be. Every time I close my eyes now I have one ear tuned to the baby monitor.

People told us our lives would be different, that no parent is ever prepared. It's amazing how a parent-to-be comprehends that statement, and at the same time, doesn't understand it at all. It's only just now that D and I are beginning to feel somewhat human again. Our lives have some pretense of a routine - or at least a pattern (it's too early to call it a rut) - that we're managing to live with. Yesterday we even managed to have friends over for dinner! Our lives are filled with a lot more mess - baby clutter and bodily fluids - than I ever imagined. And this is just the beginning.

And yet, every time I pick her up out of her crib after a nap and look at her squidgy, sleepy little face, it doesn't really matter. I've never wanted to kiss and hug someone so much in my life. All that baby softness snuggled up to your neck - who could resist? Seriously.