Friday, August 24, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Most of the alphabet.
I know parents always think their child is a genius, above-average, better than the others etc. Lucky for me, because Isabelle is not in daycare I don't really have any measuring stick by which to compare her. But that hasn't stopped me from thinking she is the sharpest little tool in the shed.
In my neurotic A-personality, obsessiveness I bought Isabelle many different flashcards when she was tiny. She has cards with animals, nature items, colors and shapes, and letters. The colors and shapes she has gotten very good at, she recognizes all the basic colors (blue, black, red, yellow, green, purple, white, and pink). She also knows square, circle, oval, star, and triangle. She knows some of the animals and some of the nature items, but what has blown me away is her knowledge of--and interest in--the letters of the alphabet. She is genuinely interested in them and will go out of her way get those cards. I would estimate she knows approximately 18-20 of the letters.
In my neurotic A-personality, obsessiveness I bought Isabelle many different flashcards when she was tiny. She has cards with animals, nature items, colors and shapes, and letters. The colors and shapes she has gotten very good at, she recognizes all the basic colors (blue, black, red, yellow, green, purple, white, and pink). She also knows square, circle, oval, star, and triangle. She knows some of the animals and some of the nature items, but what has blown me away is her knowledge of--and interest in--the letters of the alphabet. She is genuinely interested in them and will go out of her way get those cards. I would estimate she knows approximately 18-20 of the letters.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
6:00 a.m. is just fine.
Isabelle has historically slept until about 7:30 in the morning. Sometimes she would wake up at 7:00 and sometimes sleep past 8, but 7:30 was her regular. About 3 weeks ago she started waking up at 6:00. You all know I am not a morning person. And while 7:30 pushed the edge or a barbaric hour, 6:00 hits it squarely.
Paul and I were grousing about her new morning routine. When we heard her one of us would look at the clock with a single open eye, sigh, and then try to convince the other to go get her. Usually Paul was kind enough to get her and give me another hour to sleep before she came into the room crying "Mama" and demanding my attention.
It's not that I didn't want to spend time with her. I just don't like mornings. My outlook all changed on Monday at about 7:00 am.
I was snuggling in my warm covers when I felt someone shaking me. Paul almost never wakes me up, for fear of life and limb, so I couldn't figure out what was going on. I remeber through a foggy mind him saying "Aaron called, Quinn didn't wake up this morning, he's gone." I must have looked at him with blank confusion because he explained saying, "Aaron called, Quinn is dead. I need to go over there." Paul's face was ashen.
I realized what he said to me. Our good friends, had lost their child. It would be later in the day, when I scrambled to have someone cover my work, that I would learn that when Melissa walked into 16-month old son Quinn's room she found him still. They tried chest compressions and CPR. The paramedics were called, but left empty. It was too late for little Quinn, for some reason his fragile, small body gave up. He stopped breathing and without fuss or cry, died.
I don't know that I have ever witnessed such raw sadness and shock and pain as I did on Monday. I don't think there can be anything worse than losing a child.
When Isabelle woke up at 6:17 a.m. today and for the first time, instead of being cross and tired, I was simply happy to hear her waking squawks and happy little words saying good morning to her stuffed crib friends. I want to always remember to be happy to hear her, to snuggle with her, and to hold her in my arms--warm and full of love.
Paul and I were grousing about her new morning routine. When we heard her one of us would look at the clock with a single open eye, sigh, and then try to convince the other to go get her. Usually Paul was kind enough to get her and give me another hour to sleep before she came into the room crying "Mama" and demanding my attention.
It's not that I didn't want to spend time with her. I just don't like mornings. My outlook all changed on Monday at about 7:00 am.
I was snuggling in my warm covers when I felt someone shaking me. Paul almost never wakes me up, for fear of life and limb, so I couldn't figure out what was going on. I remeber through a foggy mind him saying "Aaron called, Quinn didn't wake up this morning, he's gone." I must have looked at him with blank confusion because he explained saying, "Aaron called, Quinn is dead. I need to go over there." Paul's face was ashen.
I realized what he said to me. Our good friends, had lost their child. It would be later in the day, when I scrambled to have someone cover my work, that I would learn that when Melissa walked into 16-month old son Quinn's room she found him still. They tried chest compressions and CPR. The paramedics were called, but left empty. It was too late for little Quinn, for some reason his fragile, small body gave up. He stopped breathing and without fuss or cry, died.
I don't know that I have ever witnessed such raw sadness and shock and pain as I did on Monday. I don't think there can be anything worse than losing a child.
When Isabelle woke up at 6:17 a.m. today and for the first time, instead of being cross and tired, I was simply happy to hear her waking squawks and happy little words saying good morning to her stuffed crib friends. I want to always remember to be happy to hear her, to snuggle with her, and to hold her in my arms--warm and full of love.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
"Issee" and the beans.
After months and months of a complete refusal to say--or even attempt to say--her name, Miss Isabelle is finally calling herself something other than "Baby." She now will refer to herself as "Issee." Mind you, she wont always refer to herself this way. For instance, when I am trying to show her off to people to demonstrate her genius, she looks at me when I say "Say Isee" and says "No!" Occasionally, she will also revert to saying "Baby" when asked to say her name, but "Issee" is becoming the response more and more. She also will say "Belle" - but refuses to connect the Issee to the Belle....
In other news, at 18 months Isabelle continues to be a big girl:
30 lbs. 14 oz. = 100th percentile (plus)
32 3/4 inches = 86th percentile
She is wearing 2T pants and 3T tops (care of her giant Buddha belly). Se wears a size 6-6.5 shoe and is all over the place.
She is also doing well with her potty training. Which, frankly, is a good thing because she howls like a Banshee when you try and put a diaper on. Her face turns beet red, her legs flail as if there were 13 of them, she kicks you and says "no no no no no." Oh and she sometimes cries. Such great drama.
I keep telling her that she will stop having to wear a diaper once she goes pee pee and poop in the potty. As much incentive as this should be, however, the reward of a jelly bean is the true motivator.
Isabelle has been getting a jelly bean when she goes or tries to go pee pee in the potty. She will always try for you and very often will have success. She is no dummy, however, and now will sit on the potty (and legitimately try, to her credit) and then ask for a "bean." "BEAN BEAN BEAN" comes trumpeting out of her little mouth after each and every try. Of course, I have to give her a bean because she has tried, but trying every 15 minutes seems quite excessive. Such a clever little girl.
In other news, at 18 months Isabelle continues to be a big girl:
30 lbs. 14 oz. = 100th percentile (plus)
32 3/4 inches = 86th percentile
She is wearing 2T pants and 3T tops (care of her giant Buddha belly). Se wears a size 6-6.5 shoe and is all over the place.
She is also doing well with her potty training. Which, frankly, is a good thing because she howls like a Banshee when you try and put a diaper on. Her face turns beet red, her legs flail as if there were 13 of them, she kicks you and says "no no no no no." Oh and she sometimes cries. Such great drama.
I keep telling her that she will stop having to wear a diaper once she goes pee pee and poop in the potty. As much incentive as this should be, however, the reward of a jelly bean is the true motivator.
Isabelle has been getting a jelly bean when she goes or tries to go pee pee in the potty. She will always try for you and very often will have success. She is no dummy, however, and now will sit on the potty (and legitimately try, to her credit) and then ask for a "bean." "BEAN BEAN BEAN" comes trumpeting out of her little mouth after each and every try. Of course, I have to give her a bean because she has tried, but trying every 15 minutes seems quite excessive. Such a clever little girl.
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