Happy Birthday!

To you, blog! That's right, although I am a couple of days late (so what else is new) the blog has officially turned one. There will be no trip to Chuck-E-Cheese or themed paper products for this celebration (and no corn hole much to the dismay of anyone who was at Zoe's first birthday). However, I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has kept up with it over the last year with a special shout out going to all the commenters. I have had a blast writing it and keeping everyone up to date on our girl. Since the blog started, Zoe has learned to crawl, walk and run. She started eating table food since it began. She has gone from an infant tub on our bathroom counter to practically swimming in a big-person tub. She went from cooing to speaking. She began giving kisses and sitting in a high chair. She has seen two car seats and two strollers. She has visited three states. She turned one. She got her first haircut. She gained six pounds and grew four inches.

It has been a big year. Thank all of you for being part of it.

Rosetta Stone for baby language?

Ball is one of the words in the baby vernacular that Zoe is now saying sporadically. The others are please, mama, daddy and bye-bye. All are uttered only under the duress of some parental prodding and any attempt at getting her to say these words so we can "show off" to our friends and family is met only with silence. We are continuing to do our darndest to introduce a constant stream of words in her lexicon (stopping short of "I hate you", "keys to the car", and any conversation concerning reproductive organs) but it has been a slow process. I assume if I look at the situation from Zoe's perspective, she is saying plenty and it has been a slow process getting me to understand. More frustrating for her I imagine since when I don't understand what she is saying she ends up missing out on something tangible like Teddy Grahams or a coveted bath toy. When I don't think she is saying an actual word, I just miss out on essential blogging material and a mommy moment of giddiness and pride. . . lucky for me I already get plenty of this.

"I got 'em all cut"

***Blogging note - In case you haven't already noticed, despite my best efforts my attempt at posting every day for thirty days has not panned out. Although I have done better than my past posts at once every thirty days, it was certainly a goal too ambitious. My ego is certainly not big enough to think that people were waiting with baited breath for a post that never materialized, however I thought I should make mention that I am aware of my shortcomings. Let the sporadic blogging commence***

It only took 17 months, but Zoe seems to have acquired a pretty attractive head of hair. The early photos on this blog do not do her hair justice, but for anyone who knew her as an infant remembers a tiny baby with shaggy, sparse, sometimes spiky hair. As she grew, her hair took on a Donald Trump-like persona (without the bank account to go with it) complete with the clockwise swirl surrounding a bald spot in the back. Her bangs keep growing down in her face so I have been known to cut it myself. The problems with this idea were many, not the least of which were that Zoe wiggles and moves like she is sitting on thumbtacks, the scissors I used couldn't cut melted butter, and I don't know how to cut hair. The first time I did this, Mike was at work. The next morning before he laid eyes on his daughter the conversation between the two of us went like this:
Me: I cut Zoe's hair yesterday.
Mike: You cut it?
Me: Yes.
Mike: Does it look stupid?
Me: Yes, but it looked stupid before and now it's not in her eyes.
Mike: Good point.
So, this past week I felt it was time; time to get a professional on the case, one who was licensed in this sort of thing and that carried scissors that could actually, well, cut stuff. I found a salon geared specifically for children right in our own backyard. The brightly decorated kiddie salon was outfitted with probably ten TV's all with cartoons on and hair cutting chairs that were either a spaceship or Barbie car motif, akin to the rides outside of grocery stores. Falling smack into gender expectations, we chose the Barbie car but made no special requests on cartoons. I found myself quite jealous as I pay a fortune to get my haircut with none of these luxuries. The woman worked swiftly with quick sprays of water and speedy scissor control. Zoe did awesome, like it was her job. And the results, beautiful! The Don has left the building.

Damn you American Idol

In an attempt at full disclosure and at the risk of looking like, well, a little bit of a loser, I am going to admit that I am just a little teary watching Idol Gives Back. That's right, my TV is set (in HDTV no less) at two and a half hours of weepy montages and appearances from the stars of radio, television and the requisite spattering of WWF wrestlers. So it is with some trepidation that I admit that this show is my muse for this post.

Zoe just turned 17 months old and I am not afraid to admit that she still gets a bottle before bed. That's a little bit of a lie, I typically keep the bottle giving under wraps. At the end of every can of formula (the formula thing is a whole other story) I promise myself that this will be it, that as soon as this can is empty we are breaking the habit; spoken like a true addict. Then, the next grocery shopping trip I find myself in the baby supply isle giving in, once again beginning the cycle. The reality is, Zoe could probably care less. Surely she no longer needs a bottle of formula before bed for nourishment. Experts in the field will tell you that the bottles become a source of comfort for the child, a security blanket of sorts. But frankly the source of comfort is for me. Since Zoe was born, our nighttime routine has remained the same, bath, jammies, bottle in the glider in her room.

As any first-time parent will tell you, raising your first child lends itself to a host of worries and concerns. It's not always a conscience feeling, but everyday there is some acknowledgement of the unpleasant ways in which the world sometimes works. With Zoe in our lives, there is a much more heighten sense of awareness of the proverbial bogeymen then before. So at the end of everyday I give Zoe a bottle, to me representing, if only for a few minutes, the slaying of the scary. The bottle symbolizes a day of success, a day where our daughter has experienced more happiness then not and now ends it squeaky clean, in a comfy bed, with a full belly; a day many other kids don't experience enough.

My name is Rebecca and I give my toddler a bottle. Please, no intervention.

PS. I know I've missed a couple days again. Prepare for this 30-day experiment to creep into May.

I could change the timestamp and fake it

I realize I have missed two days. Technically, I said 30 posts in 30 days, I didn't say there had to be one everyday, not to split hairs. But to be fair, at some point this month I will have two days where there are two each day or two days where there is one really good one each day (note to Zoe, help your mother out and speak your first word this month, or maybe learn to read. I could really use the material).

Anyway, we have Nana and Popa in town for a couple days. Last time they were here Zoe was not quite walking so her mania is a fun surprise for them. Last night at dinner Zoe refused to eat her turkey and veggies obviously savvy to the fact that with a grandmother around she would certainly be able to make an entire dinner out of sweet bread. She was right.

Elephant sounds and squeaky shoes

We are hard at work on the sound a monkey makes and the sound a kitty cat makes. Of course, with these shoes kitty cats tend to take off before they can make too many sounds.

And the academy award goes to. . .

Zoe Fuller for best dramatic performance in a "mom won't let me play with the toaster" or face washing scene. It is certainly fascinating (and just a little funny) to watch a toddler in a throw down tantrum over the most mundane of disappointments. It doesn't happen often but when it does I usually have to gently lower her to the ground so that she can throw her fit without fear of slamming her head on the linoleum. Tonight the big event was the removal of a box of plastics forks from her freakishly strong grip before she stabbed herself in the eye or she tossed them throughout the house. In my calmest mom voice I leaned in and said something to the effect of "No, Zoe, plastic or not, forks are not for childhood play." Cue screaming fit. Frankly, the most comical part of the whole thing is the relatively small duration of the tantrum. I mean, you'd think if you were that upset about something, you would at least have a small pout for a while. No, Zoe manages to compose herself and move on by trying to hunt down more sharp objects in the house. To put everyone's mind at ease, she is usually unsuccessful in this endeavor and settles on playing with the frog that teaches her colors. I will do my best to try and take a photo next time and add to the post.

Day two. . . more updates

Continued from the previous post Zoe updates. . .

6. While I get ready in the morning, Zoe sits in a bouncy chair that she is entirely too big for and plays. Occasionally I will hand her a makeup brush which she pretends to use. Already a diva.

7. Did I mention that she likes to run and scream?

8. The Easter Bunny arrived with two baskets full of candy, one from us and one from my parents. The one from my parents had a special surprise, really annoying toddler shoes. Now, I know you are thinking that shoes are a pretty innocuous gift, how could a simple pair of shoes be annoying? These shoes squeak when Zoe walks. So, on occasion Zoe will be running, screaming and squeaking. The gift only a grandparent would give. Especially a grandparent that lives 1500 miles away.

More tomorrow.

Let the blogging commence

I am quite certain that the few readers of the blog that I did have are now long gone, thoroughly unable or unwilling to put up the immense lapses between posts. I'm sure you are all wondering what happened with the biting as well as what else is new with her other than the random attacks on fellow daycare mates. I have no excuses, I have just been lazy about it. So today I will fill you in on all the answers to your burning questions (or mild curiosities). Also, as an apology to the two or three loyal readers (hi mom, hi Kathy) I am going to make a wholehearted attempt at 30 posts in 30 days. That's right, read about Zoe to you heart's content but take heed, many posts will be boring. Our lives are not action packed so I'll do my best to make eating melon and torturing the dog as colorful as possible. For now, here are a few things I have been remiss in sharing.

1. As sad as it is when good things come and go so fast, I use that knowledge to take comfort in the fact that so do bad things. Zoe, for now, is not much of a biter; to her classmates anyway. She sometimes gets a little frustrated and tries to come after me, but I out-weigh her by a lot so I am much more of a match than poor little Kira was.

2. Our daycare provider is pregnant and while that is great news for her, unfortunately that means then end of the road there for Zoe come the fall. And, for the record, just because she has already been in daycare, does not make it any easier for me to find another stranger for me to leave our daughter with.

3. We've lost an important part of the family. Giant inflatable duck has been retired and Zoe just heads straight into the tub. The final one was actually the great, great grandson of the original since they just kept getting holes and deflating. If I had to blow up one more giant inflatable duck, Zoe may just never have bathed again. Rest in peace, duck.

4. Zoe likes to run, then scream, then run, then scream, then run. . .

5. Her new favorite food, Teddy Grahams. She stands by the pantry door banging on it until she gets her hands on some of those tasty chocolate teddies.

That's all for now. I have to do 30 days worth of posts so I need to spread the updates out. Thanks for your patience, see you tomorrow.