Summatime

It's finally summer here in Portland, which means we are having nice sunny weather (except for last week when we had thick muggy nastiness and rain...) Isabelle is such an outside ("sigh! sigh!") baby -- the summer suits her. She loves to splash outside in her little pool, eat popsicles (something she does amazingly well), and run around nekkid. It's good to be a baby in the summer, just look:













Words, words, words. We seem to hear more new ones every day. That and her annunciation is getting better, I actually thought I heard the "L" sound in a word the other day. Some words, however, remain a mystery to anyone other than her parents. For instance "pop" is help. "Mo" might be Molly, move, or more. You just have to know the context. I think she also said her first sentence yesterday when she said "more Mama." I am sure word-strings are just around the corner.

Isabelle's latest baby-joke is to put her pants on her head:



And can I tell you, she gets extremely grumpy when the pants wont go onto her head. She gets mad and cries, or says "pop pop" and holds them at you. Usually, its the former as very often when she is trying to do something, and you offer help, she yanks whatever it is away and tells you "no." Hmmmm, I don't know where she might have gotten that personality trait from???

Meat, meat, meat!

When I asked Isabelle if she was ready to eat dinner last night she responded with a loud chant of "meat, meat, meat!" I hadn't even told her what we were having. Lucky for me (and my limbs apparently) that the meal indeed involved hamburger.

The child loves meat. Of course we all know this is no surprise given her meat and potatoes mother. But it's the vehemence of her meat-loving that cracks me up.

Exhibit 1: last weekend we went to Buster's Texas BBQ (yee haw!) for dinner. We ordered her the brisket with mashed potatoes and bread. I had barely set the plate on the table and was turning to grab her to hoist her into the high-chair, when her little chubby hand reached up and snatched a big hunk o'meat off the plate and shovelled it into her mouth.

She proceeded to eat her brisket, Paul's potatoes, a fair number of my french fries and some bread. She also said "Hi" to everyone who passed the table, causing smiles from her new admirers.

Exhibit 2, the T-bone steak dinner (no description necessary):






Exhibit 3 - seen here in live action.

In other news Isabelle is saying more and more words. Almost anything that you label for her she will repeat. This morning, for instance, she was up on the bed with me and starting climbing down. I asked her by signing if she needed help (I said it out loud too). Until now she would have signed "help," but today she said "help."

She also can say "cow" perfectly when you show her a picture of a cow. What else does she say....

Mini (Mimee)
Meeko (Meek)
Mama
Dada
Zach
Molly (Mo)
Money (Mon)
Car
Chalk
Wet
Yes (Yeah)
No
Crackers (crcks)
Spaghetti (sgki)
Spoon (spu)
Fork (fk)
Meat
Chicken (bock bock)
Shit (it completely cracks me up to hear her say it -- is that wrong???)
Beer (B!)
Ball
Balloon (boo)
Cat
Paper (pape)
Pants (pa)
Shark (shock)
Mole
Wall
Cece
Shoe
Sock
Car (ca)
Book
Hot
Outside (sigh)
Purple (purp)
Blue (boo)
Sink
Spin
Pee pee
Cheese (chs)
Please (peas)
Thank you (ta-tu)
Pool (poo)
Bowl
Cow
Towel
Pink
Brown
Green (geen)
Shower (shouw)
Sneeze
Remote (mote)

I know there are others. I need to keep a running list at home and then post them. Because truly in the last few weeks her word recognition and repetition seems to be growing like crazy.

When it rains, Isabelle blows puddle-bubbles.

Last month we had a big hail and rain storm. As you know the Baby looooves water. This includes rain water as you can see here.

Sniffles and a big chicken.

It appears Isabelle has a cold. You wouldn't know it by her actions. She continues to be silly and generally full of energy, but her little nose is dripping like a sieve. She also is very sneezey and has a dry cough, which causes her to wake up at night and cry. Last night she woke up at about 9:30 p.m. and I went into her room to comfort her. She kept rubbing her poor little nose and rooting around on me while I rocked her. She wouldn't fall back to sleep despite repeatedly yawning and having eyelids that wavered at half mast.

After 45 minutes or so I was getting tired myself, but couldn't stand to walk out of the room when she would stand up in her crib crying, saying "mama" with her sad little upside down face. So I decided to simply get into her crib with her. Although I was slightly worried that being almost five times her body weight might cause a horrific crash--I was more worried about my very clingy and sad baby.

You know I have been waiting for her to get to the age when she snuggles. She does it sometimes now when she is sleepy or watching TV before bed. But that night in her crib, with her drippy nose and tired eyes, she snuggled in like a bearcub in her mother's den in the dead of winter. Close. Warm. Soft. I know she didn't feel good, but as I lie there rubbing her little back and running my fingers through her silky hair as she rested her head on my arm, I felt utterly at peace. I don't know that I have felt so serene before--my heart was completely full. It's amazing how a baby can change your core being.

And now for the big chicken part of this post. No, it doesn't revolve around Isabelle's carnivorous dining habits--this part of the blog is dedicated to her new found sense of scare. About two months ago she started being afraid of things. A loud noise, a dragon on TV, she would make a little whining sound and run to me or Paul. The thing that seems to scare her the most, however, is a cartoon chimpanzee on her Little Einstein's show. It's not a scary chimp, its actually cute. And its a good chimp, it helps the team. But anytime that episode comes on she starts sobbing. Sobbing. I am forced to look away and laugh while I cuddle her and tell her it's alright.

The chimp seems to genuinely scare her. Other things scare her, but not in a real way. She seems to like to be scared--you know--how its fun to be scared at a haunted house. Namely she has these noisy balls that sound rattly when they roll across the hardwood floor. Isabelle loves to throw one of the balls and then run into our arms screaming with glee. it's very silly. And it happens over and over again before she tires of the game.

She also continues to think she is immensely funny when she tells you that random animals, like a dog or lion say "bock bock." That is my favorite baby-joke so far.

In other new news she has started intentionally avoiding bedtime. When i tell her its time to say goodnight she will go and pick up any nearby toy and try to engage you with it. She also will go to Paul and want Daddy (mind you, when I come home from work it is ALL MAMA until bedtime). I can't help but appreciate her little efforts to avoid going to bed and her creativity in dodging the issue.

Pizzie!

This morning I was lollygagging about (avoiding going to work) and sitting with Isabelle while she drank her morning smoothie and watched Little Einstein's ("Rocket" in ITL terms). It's about 7:45 am. At the end of the cartoon one of the characters scurries about waiting to catch something that's falling. Finally she catches it and its a pizza. The characters laugh and say "June caught a pizza, how silly!" At which point Isabelle, erupted from her little spot of my lap and started saying "pizzie pizzie." She then went barrelling into the kitchen, where she continued to chant "pizzie!" When I told her that the pizzie was all gone (we had some last Sunday) she, I kid you not, started to cry. I believe that is a direct genetic link to her Grammy -- the only person I have ever known who injured themselves while trying to race, including elbowing her adolecent children out of the way, to get the last piece of (nasty, Appian Way boxed) pizza in the pan. Needless to say we are having pizzie for dinner tonight.

Should you wonder how much Isabelle enjoys her pizzie - here are some pictures of last weeks culinary delight (and yes that's pizza sauce smashed across her forehead. She later rubbed in in her hair and eye):

Molars suck.

Last week Isabelle started getting uncharacteristically cranky. I tried to put my finger in her mouth to feel if she were getting more teeth. I couldn't feel any new teeth but I certainly felt her existing teeth sink into my finger like a pit bull with a toddlers leg in its grasp. So her crankiness remained a mystery. That was until I was turning in circles while holding her face up across my arms (have I mentioned the child loves to spin?) in the middle of the Home Depot to try to assuage the loud complaints she was voicing related to nothing in general. It was at that moment, with her head craned back and mouth wide open that I saw them. Two molars on her upper gums (left and right side) poking there was through her tender gum flesh. The smoking gun. The reason for her crankiness.

As much as I felt relief in knowing what was causing our normally cherubic child to act as if she were possessed by Satan himself -- I knew we were in for a few weeks of torment. Sure enough, I was right. Several nights in a row Isabelle has woken up from what must be tooth pain. She cries and wants comfort (and gets comfort and Motrin - wonder drug for babies). Poor little thing. I wish I could make her understand that this is only temporary (until the bottom set of molars and then canines make there way in). But of course I cant. Which is why molars suck.

Would you let this...

Into your house if it were beating at your door?


And then would you let it travel up your stairs leaving muddy little footprints in its carelessly ambling wake?


And if you did, would you require it to take a bath?


Take a bath in a place where you, of course, have a mirror so that your muddy little bundle of energy can grin at her dirty-birdie self.


And then, because your child must be for your entertainment purposes, would you mold her soft baby hair into horns on her head -- much to her delight?


I know I would.

Isabelle is such a fun baby. She makes me smile and laugh and appreciate so many things that I never saw before. Every day her personality becomes a little more her own. She knows what limits she can try to stretch with Mama and how those are different from her limits with Daddy. She falls down and gets up and rarely cries. She loves to take caps off of everything. I mean everything. And when it's a twist cap, that she just hasn't mastered yet, she gets mad and yells and throws down whatever item has offended her. She has started to point to new pictures in her books. She tries to avoid bedtime (I am the one who puts her to bed at night), telling you "no" when you ask if she is ready to go to sleep and tries to lure you into any new activity that is around. She has started to cuddle -- which melts my heart like nothing else. When she is tired she will snuggle into you, holding Llama in one hand and sucking her thumb on the other -- with her small round, warm little body nestled into yours. She is rough and tumble and likes to "get" people by bouncing on them or thwapping them with her little arms or whatever she is holding in her hands (I was beaten last night with a kitty fishing pole and maracas -- she laughed a belly laugh with every shriek I made). She has learned how to pinch and eagerly awaits the accompanying reaction. She gets mad when you tell her she has to wait or that she cannot do something. She also tests and has started to risk the consequence to undertake the action. She wants to eat whatever you are eating, even if she didn't want to eat it two minutes ago when it was offered to her on her plate. She tries hard to enunciate words and remember what things are called. She loves to be tickled on the sides and thighs. She really loves to watch the Baby in the mirror. She squeals and runs to the door when I come home. And she sneakily eats the hard catfood whenever she can. She loves water, the bath, the sink, puddles and pools.

I wish I could mention all of the things that Isabelle says and does now. There are so many new actions and reactions. But one thing remains constant. She never ceases to amaze me and fill my heart with completeness.

Enter the Llama.

My Mom and Emily came to visit last month. Isabelle loved seeing Grammy and Emily. And once again if I could figure out how to post a video, I could show a very silly one of Miss Emily dancing and singing and entertaining ITL. Isabelle loves this video and will watch it over and over and over again. Here is Isabelle watching the video in her favorite outfit.



My Mom brought Isabelle several goodies. She had just returned from a trip to Peru. One of the adorable items was this hat:




Isabelle normally doesn't like hats. However, once we told her to look in the mirror at the Baby wearing the hat and sang a little Peru-hat song, she decided the hat (or is it just the cute Baby wearing the hat) was very cool -- allowing me to snap some photos.



The hat was not THE GIFT to end all gifts, as cute as it might be. My Mom also brought Isabelle a fluffy soft stuffed al paca, which we -- in our infinite creativity -- call "Llama." Where once Sheepy reigned supreme the Llama has come to rest. Isabelle loves Llama. She carries it with her, kisses it, makes us kiss is, and can be found almost every night (when I sneak in to look at her sleeping) clinging to Llama like a good friend to whom she just cannot be parted. Llama is Isabelle's lovey.



Generally, having Llama around is great. It soothes her and makes her happy. Isabelle also would prefer to take Llama in the bath and outside as well as have Llama join her in her booster seat for meals. This presents a problem of course because Llama is not supposed to get wet, would be subject to mud eating/wallowing feasts outside, and has long fluffy hair that becomes easily matted with rice or whatever bits Isabelle is shovelling in her maw. My point is that Llama simply cannot partake of all the activities that Isabelle chooses and sometimes -- Heaven forbid -- must leave Isabelle's grasp. Enter the tantrum.

I almost hate to use the work tantrum because Isabelle's really aren't that bad. She howls and clings to my legs, muttering "mlammma" (which although sounding much like Mama id "Llama") in a pitiful tone full of tragic emotion. Luckily, Isabelle is easily distracted ("hey, look Isabelle - mud to eat!") and the tantrum doesn't last too long. But I can say when Isabelle reunites with Llama its a glorious thing and all is well with the world.

Anyhow, the visit was a good one. The kids played in the hot tub and Isabelle got some good Grammy and Emily time. She continues to look at Grammy's picture in her room and point back and forth between Grammy and Jose. Sometimes she even wants to sit in her crib with the picture and the one of Charlene. It's very heartwarming.

Isabelle the Barbarian.

Isabelle had her 16 month check up today. She got some booster shots, cried, then gave the nurse a high-five. She also got weighed and measured. It appears that some trends continue (weight-30.5 lbs.) and some don't (height-31.5 inches):




Isabelle continues to be above the 100th percentile in weight and is now in the 78th percentile in height. And I would be lying if I said she didn't quite literally throw her weight around sometimes.

Take for instance Mother's Day. We decided to go to Target and do some shopping for storage items (because her toys overfloweth). I let ITL run amok for a while to burn energy and assist her creative mental development. She looked at things, touched things, spoke baby babble to random strangers, hugged one woman's leg, and squealed with delight. She also pushed a little boy and made him cry.

Now -- don't get me wrong, I don't think Isabelle was out of line at all. She and the little boy who was almost 2 and who,I am quite sure, did not yet weigh 30.5 pounds, were staring at each other in that other-small-person wonderment phase. Isabelle is touchy, she hugs and pushes (not viciously mind you just a push) and pokes you in the face. She is a baby - she is exploring. So little boy gets pushed on the shoulder and falls down and starts bloody wailing. Sigh.

His Mother, Ms. I-Am-Raising-A-Victim tells him to tell Isabelle "no" and glares at me. Whatever. Her kid is a wimp. I wish i could say I felt bad, but I didn't. For goodness sake she is 16 months old and little crying boy's mother acted as if she had, with premeditation, lopped off his left foot. Am I wrong here?

Apparently, yesterday at the park (she was there with Dad) she also tried to cover two little boys in bark chips, which didn't make them happy. Am I seeing a pattern here?

Isabelle is continuing with her word play. She has been talking more and more in baby speak -- we think she must be getting ready for the 18-month word explosion. She continues to say "yeah" for yes and "no" for, well, no...although she has started to say "no-ee." We aren't really sure where this came from as we don't add too many "ee" sounds to words (with the exception of doggie and birdie) so her word alteration in one of her own creations. It's very cute.

She continues to love to watch herself on video -- especially the ones where she speaks or squeals. Over and over and over again. She also is liking the Wiggles (especially the Wiggly Safari with the late Steve Irwin) and she still likes Little Einstein's. She loves her books and of late I have noticed her really concentrating on pages as she looks at them - its as if you can see the little sparks of data being processed in her baby mind.

Words of wonder.

Isabelle has not yet hit that verbal stage where she really starts talking, I understand that will happen somewhere around 18 months. Her vocabulary is, however, expanding. Both is what she can say, tries to say, says with sign language and understands. The latter category seemingly is the largest. The Baby has an excellent ability to understand what you tell her and respond accordingly. She is such a smart baby.

So what does she say you ask? Here is what I can think of as of this moment (as shown by the correct word and what it sounds like out of her cheery little maw):
1. Dada
2. Mama
3. Mini ("Mimee")
4. Ball ("Ba")
5. Banana ("Nana!")
6. Sock
7. Shoes ("shus")
8. Llama ("mama")
9. Ring ("wing-wing")
10. Pants ("pa-pa")
11. Baby
12. Zach ("Za")
13. Molly ("Ma")
14. Wait ("uway")
15. No
16. Yes ("yeah!")

Number 16 is one of my favorites. She learned to say "yes" in about and hour. Now when she points at something and you pick up one of the 1262 things it might be you get a "no" (which has an inflection on the end making it sound almost like a little question) or an enthusiastic "yeah!" It's very cute.

Her newest signs are for "bird," "airplane," and "hear." Airplane is a toughie though and usually we get bird for an airplane too. Hear is cute because she puts her little hand over her ear and looks to where the sound is coming from.

What amazes me both, as described above, is Isabelle's ability to comprehend what we are saying. I could never describe everything here, but it really is strange to be able to tell her something rather complex and have her follow right along. For instance, I can tell her that "Daddy is in Mama's bedroom" and off she will toddle to find him there. I can also ask her to "lay back" when I am changing her diaper and she will do so. She also understands outside - so if I tell her that we can go outside once she put her shoes on, she will go get her shoes and bring them to me and when I stand her up she will go wait at the door.

Of course she also understands "eat cat food" and will happily chow down on some Senior Science Diet even when she has just signed being "all done" with her dinner. The good thing about the feline delicacy is that with it I have taught her "one" and she knows to pick out and eat a single piece of crunchy meaty delight at a time (well most of the time--if left unsupervised I will find her with chubby handfuls of cat food being shoved in her mouth). If often count out the cat food as "one-two-three" pieces, so I am thinking she probably knows that too.

Oh, and I have bought her two little potties. If I catch her at the right time and sit her on the potty and tell her to "pee pee in the potty" she will almost always try and go, even if a little about 60% of the time. I think if we consistently worked on this she could be potty trained by 18-20 months. I (knock on wood) can't imagine she won't have trained herself by two. She already wants to flush the toilet whenever I use it.

Lastly, she seems to be ever expanding her repertoire of what I call "baby-jokes" -- those little things that show she understands humor. As you know she knows what many an animal says (i.e. "a cow says moo"). Well, while on vacation she decided that when I would ask her what a lion says, instead of responding with her customary "roar" she would say "bock bock" -- you know, what a CHICKEN says. She thinks its very funny.

Aloha Baby!

We just returned from out week in Kauai. It was a much needed break for me and a lot of fun for all of us.



We had great weather, it rained only twice while we were there and was about 80-85. The hotel was nice, although if you heard a giant explosion sometime on April 25 it was my head exploding when they told me Isabelle couldn't ride down the big water slide at all -- even on my lap. Being that the water slide and pool was the reason we picked the Hyatt over a hotel on Maui or on the Big Island, I almost came unglued...Luckily the island breezes (and a pina colada or two) cooled my lava-spewing-anger and I opted to try and not dwell on the hotel's crap-rule and concentrate on the fun and beauty around me.

The hotel did have wonderful pools, including a meandering saltwater lagoon and multi-level freshwater pools. Isabelle loved them all. Here she is digging in the sand at the saltwater lagoon.





We were lucky when she dig for sand, given that most of the time she ate the sand. Lest you think I am kidding (a) see prior video of her eating several handfuls of dirt and (b) you didn't have to change the diaper that I-kid-you-not must have been 1/3 sand. Let's just say Isabelle's little system was clean as a whistle by the time our trip ended.

During the trip Isabelle developed a severe case of Mommy-itis, and while I usually would be secretly happy by her total preference for me after 6 hours on a plane and several days of only wanting to be carried by me, I rethought the whole "favorite" idea. Not that I didn't love it and get to share many happy kisses and snuggles, but the child weighs 30 pounds! The right side of my back felt like it had been beaten with a cat-o-nine-tails by the time we were ready to leave. Nevertheless, the Mama and Baby time melted my heart and even made me forget about my ever increasing Quasimodo-esque posture.




Did I mention what a cool baby Isabelle is:



And although the hotel-nazi's wouldn't let her on the big slide ($&*^%$#%*&!), she did get a few rides on the baby slide in the freshwater pool. Paul would push her up and Molly would send her down. Isabelle loved the little slide, which she could do quite well in her floatie.



The first time I sent her down the slide it was sans floatie,however, and with Molly at the receiving in. It wasn't such a glorious moment. Now Molly is fabulous with Isabelle, but couldn't touch the bottom of the pool just where she was. Needless to say, Isabelle fell back, beat her head against the slide like an egg on granite and went sliding into the watery abyss. Isabelle being Isabelle -- we only got a bit of protest and she was happy to go again (enter stage left: floatie).

Isabelle loved the water. She drank it (including the salt water...), she rolled in it, she blew bubbles in it and she swam like a polliwog. When we needed to take a break for lunch and she was being carried by the pool she pointed. When she got sat down, she made a bee-line for the water. She splashed and squealed and had a wonderful time. And, of course, she was like a little celebrity, smiling and saying "hi" with a coy wave and huge grin to almost everyone she encountered. She also attempted to steal strangers beer cans and fruity drinks. She is nothing if not a magnanimous flirt. She would walk the aisle of the plane, stopping to greet people and smile. Everyone loved the baby.

In addition to the pools, she also sat in the ocean in a calm little area where the waves were tamed by rock. She was mesmerized by the ebb and flow of the tide.





Have you ever seen a cuter physique on a hula dancer? I think not!




Other things that Isabelle enjoyed at the hotel were the birds (she can now do the sign for "bird" in ASL), pointing out the moon ("mun") at night, and watching the fish in the hotel's coi ponds. One of the hotel's ponds surrounds the restaurant. When we went there for dinner, they gave Molly a cup of food to feed to the fish. Molly shared with Isabelle, who happily threw food at the fish. Had we let her go she would have also happily gone into the fish pond with the many colorful fish ("fsh-fsh").



The days in Hawaii were busy and full and new. Molly made Isabelle laugh, hard belly laughs, on a regular basis. She swam and flirted and played. And at the end of those days, or even in the middle, we never had a problem with naps (with Sheepy and Llama of course). Isabelle played hard and slept hard. She was herself. She was a good baby and we can't wait to go back next year for more.