My Big Girl

Adelaide, my “baby”, has recently reached a whole new level: Toddlerhood. She’s running around (okay, it’s more of a jog), uses real words and phrases, eats her food with her own utensil, shares her opinion quite forcefully, flies down the slide at the park all by herself, is climbing up on beds and couches and out of bathtubs and pack n’ plays.

As my friend Dolly so perfectly put it, an era has ended.

Revisiting Poor Baby!

This past week has been one of the roughest yet for Adelaide. First of all, she’s teething two of her back molars.

Which I discovered one day when I tried to fish a penny out of her mouth.

OW!

(That’s all I have to say about that.)

Secondly, she’s got a nasty diaper rash that is holding on for dear life. It’s probably from the sheer amount of recent poopy diaper changes. I lost count Thursday at ten! And couldn’t even bear to count yesterday.

I mean, enough is enough.

(You know it’s enough when your three-year-old exclaims “I don’t BEWEEVE it!” when the baby poops in the tub, yet again.)

So, there’s that. (Red Fiery Bottom, let’s call it.)

And then she pulled the cord of my hair straightener down in the bathroom and it came clambering down and landed encircling her thigh.

And, yes, it was on.

So, the poor baby’s got a burnin’ bottom and a burned leg. And those pesky burnin’ gums.

So needless to say, she’s not feeling so hot. (Pun totally intended.)

Yeah, poor baby.

Talkin' Girl

I am not even kidding when I say that Adelaide is starting to talk. A few she's consistent with are 'mommy,' 'daddy,' 'baby,' 'bottle,' 'uh-oh,' 'bye,' 'ball,' 'watch,' 'NO!,' and 'good girl.' The last one is especially funny because she'll say it and clap for herself, nodding enthusiastically.

Andy and I were trying to get her to do it for Josiah and Liz this past weekend, and I held her banana slightly out of reach while saying, "good girl?"

"Adelaide, say 'good girl!'"

She looked up at us and, I kid you not, said (rather emphatically) "Nooooo!"

We all just about died laughing. It's so funny hearing real words come out of such a tiny little person.

My Child Will Never Do That

Alternate title: In the Bath You Go

Alternate alternate title: Good Thing I Just Cleaned

Poor Baby!

This morning a friend came by and picked up Drew and Madeline for the morning. I resisted the urge to lay on the couch with my book (I'm almost done with Outlander) and managed to pack several more boxes. More importantly, though, I sorted through several years' worth of papers and recent stacks of junk mail. I think paper clutter must procreate during the night. It seems like we're always swimming in it.

When Andy got home from work he took the kids to the playground. It's a little ritual they have. Tonight he brought Adelaide along for the first time. She sat in the wagon and Drew pulled her and Madeline (under Andy's supervision, of course) all the way there.

Andy pulled it himself on the way home. He told me he looked back when the wagon suddenly felt lighter and found Adelaide face down in the gravel. He felt so awful. She had totally jumped ship.

Here she was earlier this afternoon:



And here she is now:




Poor baby!



This last one just cracks me up. She was trying to chew on her sleeve. Crazy kid.

Baby Office

Playtime with Adelaide

And please excuse the loud banging noise in the background. (Ahem, Drew!)



Yep, she's their sister.

Just Because

*sigh*

Dear Adelaide,

Six poopy diapers in a nine hour period is more than enough.

Kindly remember tomorrow.

- your loving Mama

It’s my birthday, I get to pick

First we went to dinner at the Olive Garden.

(What’s that? I think I can hear Steve Lewin and his French taste buds, laughing at me all the way from Chattanooga.)

(I don’t think I need to tell you that he eats Ramen.)

(We all have our vices.)

(Mine is just sometimes in the form of chain Italian food. And shoe stores.)

Now where was I? Oh yes…I’ve been feeling a need for toasted ravioli and fresh Italian salad. And a breadstick or twenty never hurt anyone.

(Well, unless you’re allergic.)

And then we went to this fancy schmancy movie theater (with a coffee shop in the lobby, even) and saw “21.” While sipping mochas. Alone without kids.

The movie (based on a true story, you know) had a lot of similarities to the Ocean movies. (Minus the George Clooney and Brad Pitt parts, however.) We had a fun time. If you liked the Ocean movies, you’ll probably like 21.

And when we got back to Andy’s parents’ house to pick up the kids, Adelaide was walking around their living room.

Wonders, they never cease.

For My Records

I took Adelaide to her 1-year well check today. It was a much better experience than last time, but she still screamed. I think she just remembered everything and got mad.

But, it was a female doctor this time, and she was wonderful. I was so glad because I was pretty close to switching practices altogether.

She is 75% for height and about 48% for weight - coming in at a not-so-whopping 21 pounds. I think I'll turn her car seat around now. She won't be able to see the kids anymore, which might be sad and slightly less entertaining, but at least she'll have some leg room.

An angel friend watched the other two for me, which made the overall experience much calmer and almost even stress-free.

Itty Bitty No More

I had a little bit of a revelation Saturday night.

Adelaide? She's not so itty-bitty anymore.

We drove up to some of our old Chattanooga friends' house for dinner - burgers and fellowship, what could be better? (Well, unless you're a vegetarian. But I won't hold it against you.)

They have a brand spankin' new baby. And next to her, Adelaide looked like a big monster. A cute one though. It was the first time my eyes were opened to how big she is. Not compared to other babies her own age, she's been pretty consistent with the 50th percentile. But just that she's growing up.

I could not help but stare at her and wonder where she came from.

That third baby, they sort of sneak up on you.

Just call me industrious

Clearly, we have a problem.


So this is what I did during naptime today:


All by myself; no Andy in sight.

One birthday party, slightly pink.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Baby Girl

You've been nothing but a happy blessing to us.

And We Love Them No Less

In honor of Adelaide's birthday tomorrow, I thought I would post a little observation on the Third Child.

A few weeks ago I was talking on the phone to one of my aunts, and before she called I had been in the process of getting Adelaide down for her morning nap. So, still chatting, I put Adelaide in her bed with her blanket, bunny and bottle, and then shut the door and resumed my conversation about plane tickets. It occurred to me, though, that I hadn't changed her diaper and I sort of mused about it out loud to my aunt and then said, "oh well!" We had a little laugh over it. I wasn't about to go back in there since it was so quiet.

But it got me to thinking. It sure is funny the difference between firstborns and thirdborns. Here's a few random anecdotes I came up with:

Firstborns typically have a million baby pictures, a full baby book, and lots of mementos from their early years. I’ve even seen bronzed baby shoes. Third babies are lucky if they even have a baby book. And most of their baby pictures show them along with the rest of their siblings.

Firstborns get to wear the new baby clothes with bright colors, fresh from the baby shower. Thirdborns get to sport stains from before they were even born. And their clothes are a little faded. And shrunk.

Firstborns get their diaper changed regularly. Thirdborns? Not so much. Adelaide’s diaper gets changed when she poops. Or in the morning when it can’t possibly hold another drop.

A firstborn gets picked up when it cries. Thirdborns get picked up when everyone else stops crying.

I was religious with prenatal vitamins when I was pregnant with Drew. For Adelaide I remembered maybe once a week. Or less.

Firstborns get the pretty nursery. Adelaide sleeps in a pack n’ play in Andy’s office. (On custom foam, though, at least.)

A first baby gets checked for normal breathing several times during the night. By the third baby, the bassinet is wedged in the bathroom so everyone else can get some peace.

A first baby gets regular baths. The third baby gets a bath when the mom notices that he/she stinks.

Parents are extra careful with baby food for a firstborn. Thirdborns are more on an “anything goes” policy.

That’s all I could think of for now. Anyone want to add on?

Another post about big girl Adelaide

We lured her into taking three consecutive steps tonight with a shiny red Reece's mini cup wrapper.

She'll only walk for chocolate.

(Which, unfortunately for her, she didn't get.)

The Real Deal

Adelaide had her final drop of formula last week. (I weaned her back at 11 months due to four chomp-happy teefers.) She only had maybe 4 canisters of it or so, but still my grocery budget sighed with relief.

Anyway, she’s on whole milk now, no mixing required. And ever since the hotdog incident, I’ve been giving her food with more and more texture. And taste. Which, naturally, she prefers.

Because let’s be honest, who really would like the pureed nastiness that is jarred baby food? And, let’s also be honest, I’m too lazy to make my own.

So she eats our food, cut up smallish. And she does perfectly fine and she loves it. She ate more pork the other night than Madeline did. I drop food on her tray and she kicks her little feet with glee. It sort of reminds me of a little puppy dog wagging its tail.

She’s growing up! And it sure makes mealtimes easier to prepare. Well and I don’t have to spoon-feed her either… she’s quite the expert at stuffing her own face.

It’s a winning situation for all of us.

Bath Monitor

Drew and Madeline needed a bath before church last Sunday, so I dumped 'em in and continued getting myself ready. Adelaide loves baths, so she crawled in and splashed around as best she could from the other side of the tub, pajama sleeves and all. Thankfully she's not tall enough to actually climb in.

She looked like she was supervising their bath.



A little while later I heard these wild peals of laughter coming from inside the tub. I realized the big kids were squirting Adelaide with the bath toy and totally cracking up. I walked in to find her completely drenched, head to toe. And having a grand ole time.


She didn't seem to care one whit they had squirted her in the face.

And they should be glad they have such a laid-back baby sister.

Tell me this doesn't feel weird

I guess I should stop thinking of her as my tiny newborn baby.




She hasn't taken any actual steps just yet. But she's standing for several minutes and has pretty good balance. Andy says her feet are way too small for walking; I think he's just being difficult.