School Dayz

So with all the hub-bub of me starting a new job, and what with the travel and unexpected passings, I've completely dropped the ball on reporting on a major event in Otter's existence: the start of her schooling.

Now that the wheels that will take her down the road of unfathomable success or epic failure have started turning, I can step back and assess SB's reaction to the start of the journey.

The first day was met with dubioius interest. On the upside, from the open house, she knew there was a bunny and toy cars there. And paint. And cookies for snack. And a brand new lunch pail, shaped like an owl that she could take. On the downside, aside from those certainties, she had nothing to go on. And in our household, strange = bad.

The first few days went well enough, with us staying in the classroom and Otter tentatively playing with the myriad new toys available to her. And then we took a trip to see grandparents - followed by a "no kids" trip to Vegas. And though Otter continued to go to school while Bree and I did up Sin City, upon our return SB began the "I don't want to go to school," routine.

But after days of using every tactic to get her into the classroom - from pointing out all the cool stuff there to telling her she can quit, but has to tell her teacher in person - it seems that SB has found her stride. She's now playing "school" at home - which involves us eating a lot of "snacks," - eating up the aforementioned school snacks with gusto, singing songs, and mentioning what the other kids did that day.

This morning, she rushed me out the door, saying "It's time for school!"

Apparently to a good end or bad end, this school thing is here to stay.

Sneak Preview or Daddy's Girl

I usually joke that Otter is almost 3 going on 13. And it might more true than I want to believe. In the last few weeks, I've been progressively getting previews of what's to come some ten years in the future, or now - whichever comes sooner.

It started innocently enough - being told to come back when she wasn't quite ready to get up in the morning. Then came the day I was sent away while she was playing train ride with Bree. Last week, when I accidentally nudged her with the door, she ran off, sobbing and burying her head in the guest room bed. She screamed, "Go away!" while I vainly tried to apologize. Eventually I had to retreat, only enticing her out by loudly telling the rubber duckies how sorry and sad I was, and reading them the bedtime story meant for SB.

And today the beginning of the end...well, began. After 2 nights of being late - an event that usually requires extra attention - I came home early enough for someone to go to the grocery store. But when she heard that Bree was heading out, she freaked. And when I asked her if she wanted her Papa to stay and put her down (again) while I left, she quickly, and happily, agreed. And why shouldn't she? Papa plays Elevator, Train Ride, Airplane Ride, and Picnic better than I ever will.

My place in the sun is temporarily (or permanently?) eclipsed.

And it's weird, and surprising, and a little liberating. Good luck, Papa!

Freakin' Chicken

Since we decided that expletives uttered by a toddler are more crass than cute, I've been trying to watch my sailor-mouth around the kid. And quite frankly, I thought I was doing quite well. I may have been using sound-alikes for my utterances, but had I not removed the more common 4-letter nouns and verbs from my vocabulary?

But perhaps I had congratulated myself to soon. This morning, after searching for her doll and finally finding her in the bathroom, Otter shook her head and muttered, "Freakin' baby."

Main Man

A few weeks back, we found Otter pretending she's on the phone, deep in conversation as we walked in on her. "Buh-bye Jimmy," she quickly babbled upon seeing us.

Jimmy? Who is Jimmy? Ears perked up, we investigated further. Jimmy, it turns out, is the little boy from the park. What's this? Does Otter have a boyfriend? A paramour to whom she makes clandestine, early morning, pretend phone calls?

Bree took the news far better than I expected - no talk of guns or barbed-wire fences came up. How long this surprisingly blase attitude lasts remains to be seen.

In the meantime, we're suddenly aware that the little girl who had until very recently been a baby, has begun her secret, independent life.

God help us.

Maturing Palate

This morning when I asked SB what she wants for breakfast, she told me quesadilla.

And coffee.

K2

SB is now officially a climber. Completing the training that she began back in the womb, when she threatened to tear through my chest cavity by climbing up Alien-style, she can now mount the bed and our dining room chairs. She does this all with lightening speed, occasionally upping the ante by carrying multiple stuffed animals and her water bottle (held tightly in her teeth) on the ascent.

Now, every time it gets too quiet, we race to find her, usually standing on the bed and, once in a while, sitting on the dining room table.

Early Achievement

The Terrible Twos have arrived with a bang, kick and scream about 6 months early. The most common victim of this new milestone is our long-suffering dog, whose daily regimen of being assaulted with hugs and being force fed various bits Otter finds on the floor (some of it even edible) has been augmented by pokes, smacks and the occasional wheeled toy hit and run.

Attempts at curtailing this barrage of abuse are generally met with kicking, punching and screaming (and that's just MY reaction ;) ). As I searched for a more workable solution, I've run across the gamut of suggestions, everything from Dr. Happy's advice that involved mirroring SB's feelings in Toddlerese, along with some clapping and growling, to Internet boards offering everything from loving hugs and pretending to cry to beating your child with a staff in the name of the Lord. I wish I was kidding.

The dog concedes his defeat before the abuse with a characteristically morose outlook, fleeing when the barrage becomes to intense. Such is his lot, balanced somewhat by nighttime bed privileges and mealtime snacks courtesy of the Otter.

As for me, I'm trying to lovingly acknowledge her emotions while dodging and weaving, holding down the legs with all my might, and starting to research boarding schools.

Playing Doctor

The 18-month doctor's appointment blows. For those of you who haven't done it yet, it involves non-stop crying occasionally mixed with checking of ears, stomach, heart and lungs. It begins with a questionnaire, designed to diagnose your child with any latent autism, and ends with a barrage of shots. Somewhere in there, your kid is measured and weighed and, after a full-on struggle, their head is measured. I'm pretty sure at one point her eyes may have been tested. I believe there was a quick chat about pre-schools and the doctor may have asked me if I had any questions. I had only one: "When can I get out of here?"

Here's what I learned:

Otter is still tall (75%); and skinny (15%). She is hella strong (as determined by the pediatrician, nurse and me struggling to pin her down while her ears were checked) and perfectly normal.

In more awesome news, we don't have to go back until she's 2!!!

17 Months

She does the Booty Dance on request.

She loves Barney's "I Love You" song - god only knows how, since we've never shown her a Barney show.

She has 6 teeth.

She hugs the dog. And everyone else.

She feeds the dog. Everything.

She no longer fits in the baby bath.

She loves koalas, pandas, tigers, octopuses, kangaroos, penguins and ducks.

Her favorite outfit is the pink doggie onesie, which she asks to wear every day.

She enjoys rolling on the floor.

She knows all the Sesame Street characters.

She's almost a year and a half.

I have reason to believe that potty training may not go exactly according to plan...

Otter-tionary V. 2.0

Of late, we've been expanding on our vocabulary - so here are some additional uses as well as new definitions:

mama - 1) mama; 2) lemon; 3) llama

daa - down

gabtey gabtey - what turkeys say; what turtles say

thththth - what snakes say

oppa(paa) - octopus

ppppppp - penguin

gaaa - goat

wawa - waffle

On a related note -

Today while feeding Otter, I took a paper towel to clean her hands. "This is to clean up between courses," I told her.

"Eheheheheheh," replied, making her best horse noise. Horses, courses... sounds similar enough.

Otter-tionary

An updated dictionary of SB's growing vocabulary, as well as her interpretations of the English language:

gaga - tiger

mama - 1) mama; 2) lemon

papa - papa

doggie - any and all animals

baba/nyumy nyumy nyumy - bottle with milk

mooo - what cows say

up - up

appa - apple

ba - ball

neow - what cats say

constipated poopy noise impossible to spell - what horses say (also what sea horses say)

mouth opening and closing - what fish say

sniffing - what rabbits say; also the smell of socks, clothes etc.

nana - banana

ni-ni - good night

naaaa - nose

maaa - mouth

agua - water

gabtey gabtey - what turkeys say

neena - nina (little girl)

TEETH!!!!!!!

I admit it - for a while, I suspected my child might be part rodent. That her 2 bottom teeth would remain her only means of chewing, growing for her whole life, and requiring her to gnaw on furniture to keep them from growing too far.

While all our baby friends sprouted incisors and molars, Otter teethed with a vengence, drooling, chewing, sucking and being cranky with absolutely nothing to show for her suffering.

But today - oh joy of joys - as I flipped her upside down, I saw them. Not one but BOTH of her front top teeth peeking out! In days, we'll have doubled our tooth supply. Not bad for a few weeks' work.

16 to go...

Things I Miss While At Work

Bath time.

Otter is undressed, ready to go.

Susana realizes the bath is in backwards, and puts Otter down so she can fix it.

Otter uses this time to pee on the floor.

She then takes our blue kitchen towel and starts wiping the floor.

14 Months

Walking, talking, climbing, laughing, screaming, kicking, opinionated.

When you yawn, she says "wa wa wa wa wa."

All animals are "doggie."

Bananas are "nanana."

Her smaller board books are "gapty gapty ga" - though we're not sure what that means.

She "moos" at cows and loves ducks and tigers.

Monkey is her go-to guy.

She dances, and claps, and climbs on piles of her books to reach shelves she shouldn't. She rearranges our DVDs, sorts laundry, loves to smell her socks (both dirty and clean) and wipe the floor with dish towels.

She loves being swung inside the laundry basket and climb all over the bed. She hates having her feet covered by blankets.

Somehow, we blinked, and she grew into a little human girl.

From the Mouths of Babes

Otter's been babbling up a storm. Some of it is even been comprehensible... So here is her vocabulary, to date:

Mama - meaning "mama," but also "give me" or "I want"

Papa - meaning "papa"

Nyum-nyum - meaning "hungry" and "good" (as it pertains to food)

Doggie - used to signify dogs and virtually all other animals. On the other hand, often used to identify dog barks, which is quite perceptive.

Night-night - goodbye

Uh-oh - not sure if she knows what this means, but loves to say it, and uses it to ID the "What Does Baby Say?" book that first introduced us to that phrase.

Agua - water (yeah, in Spanish - my child is multi-lingual you see)

Small Steps, Giant Leaps

Today, Otter turned 13 months and is officially into her 2nd year of life. Kinda crazy and wild. The last month has been a series of leaps that seem huge in retrospect, but which snuck up on us so that we barely noticed they happened.

Somewhere down the line, SB was weaned. It happened gradually, beginning, perhaps, when I first went back to work (when she was 5 months old) and she began getting her milk from the bottle rather than from the tap. Sure, it was still breast milk, but the separation of boob and food had begun. Then came the days of milk cocktail, with cow milk gradually gaining a presence until finally, all that remained was a morning feeding that was symbolic at most. Once Otter realized that she could get the good stuff much faster out of bottle we now offered in the morning, she dumped the boob like yesterday's newspaper. Suddenly, I had my body back.

Our breast feeding journey ("journey" - how La Leche League of me) had been at times painful, frustrating, at times shockingly bonding, often humbling, occasionally hilarious. We've made it a year, weaning on Otter's schedule without her ever having tasted formula.

In other breaking news, Otter took her first unassisted step today. Initially, she tried walking on the bed while holding a pillow, which led to a long debate as to what exactly constituted a first step. Were pillows allowed? Did it have to be on the floor? But Otter saved us from further argument by repeating her milestone on the floor. Lest we get too excited though, she promptly fell to the floor and continued crawling.

11 Months Comes in With a Bang

Well, Otter's made it to 11 months unscathed. Almost.

The weekend was spend celebrating by trying all sorts of things only grown, 11-month-olds do. Saturday was SB's 2nd attempt at the pool, and like most post-virgin tries, this one worked out much better, lasted longer, and was far more enjoyable. Whether it was the lack of rough housing 9-year-olds, the slightly warmer water temperature or just the mood of the moment, but Otter had a blast first standing then hanging and splashing around in our friends' pool. Apparently she even dunked her face in the water without tears or drama. I say "apparently" because I was engaged in a conversation at that moment and had turned my head. This would turn out to be a theme for the whole weekend, but more on that later.

After a respectable swim, Otter rounded out the day of newness by trying some bbq ribs and cornbread, which she seemed to enjoy tremendously, and some bbq chicken, whey she hearted less. Passing out in the car on our way home, I'm sure she was dreaming of an even more awesome Sunday...

Which started out well enough. A trip to Trader Joes (complete with a ride in the "kid" compartment of the shopping cart and a sampling of yogurt dip), a walk with the dog at the park... 11 months was shaping up to be quite the event.

Until nap time. I put her down on the bed and turned to pick up her Sleep Sack. It was only a split second (isn't it always?), but in that moment Otter took some major initiative and shortly thereafter took flight. Perhaps she was reliving memories of splashing around in the pool. Or maybe she was starting early training for a career in diving or gymnastics. Whatever the case may be, she did an impressive tuck and roll right off the edge of our bed and completed one rotation before her progress was impeded by our floor.

She landed squarely on her back, testing the relative hardness of oak floorboards against that of baby head. Methinks the floor won. But, after some reasonable crying (her, not me), hand wringing (me, not her), and cuddling with Monkey (both of us), Otter was once again right as rain. On the silver lining side of things, there was no concussion, no need to call child services, and, I don't know about Otter, but I won't be forgetting 11 months anytime soon.

Permanent Baby

A few months ago, Otter reached the milestone for understanding object permanence. Which is a fancy way of saying that she now realizes the world goes on, even when she's not there. Babies being the completely self-centered creatures that they are, Otter takes great exception to this fact, and it's become a bit of an obstacle at nap time.

As soon as SB sees her Sleep Sac come out, the waterworks begin. It matters not that she is tired and cranky, or that she will be perfectly fine within several minutes of me leaving the room. The blanket, with all the napping it implies, is highly offensive. I'm not sure what great fun she imagines I'm having while she is "put away." Certainly it's not me blending corn, or trying to fold laundry at breakneck speed. On the other hand, this is a baby who is entertained as hell by pulling herself up to a standing position and yanking at a curtain. So maybe the blender is truly a party in a box for her.

Be that as it may, getting her into her Sleep Sac has become a tearful bait and switch con, where stuffed animals, blocks and the occasional diaper wipe are all employed. So sure, my baby ends up in her crib clutching a plastic Ferris wheel toy. But at least she's in bed, right?

Shiner Whiner Chunker Chicken

Shiner

Yesterday, during one of her exploratory treks around the living room, Otter's right cheekbone had an up close and personal meeting with the base of her swing. Before you start calling the authorities, let me point out that I actually tried to stop the swinging. And had I not succeeded, at least partially so, the damage would have been much worse. But alas and alack, be it the advancing age or the heavy drinking, but my reflexes are not what they used to be.

I console myself by asserting that a certain number of falls and bruises are inevitable. Nay, necessary. How else will she learn about gravity and all those other funky laws of physics? Sure, my kid has a black eye - but you should see the other guy.

Whiner

We've begun a new phase in Otter's emotional life. The lady not only knows what she wants, but also how quickly she wants it. Which is usually like, immediately. And should you not jump at her command, you are met with a with a wailing protest of the most serious kind. You object to her opinion that yanking the curtain around violently is not entertaining enough and she wants to hit the window as hard as she can? WHAAAAA! She threw her koala toy from her chair and you didn't leap over the dining room table to pick it up (so she can toss it again)? WHAAAAAA! You think she shouldn't be using the dog as a step stool as she attempts to mountaineer over the headboard? WHAAA! WHAAA! WHAAAAAA!

Let the games begin.

Chunker

At a recent dinner party we attended with Otter, everyone kept commenting on what a good eater she is. And we're happy to say, it's definitely true. For our part, we try to keep Otter's dining options interesting - forgoing homogeneous, off-beige canned baby food in lieu of beets, quinoa and sauteed squash, farmers market nectarines and goat yogurt. For her part, Otter has obliged us by eating quite a variety of food, and finally embracing texture. We don't find out for a while, but we're thinking the days of desperately trying to make weight are over.

Chicken

One of her numerous nicknames. It's amazing she knows her name at all...