Happy second birthday Miss Isabelle!

I remember when I was a kid, my Mom used to always say "how did I get to be someone’s mother.” My Mother of course, being the bearer of all things anatomically correct, did not mean this in the procreative sense; she meant it in the philosophical sense. 37 years later I finally understand the genesis of her question.

Isabelle turned two this week. She is an incredibly bright, chatty, opinionated, happy, wonderful little girl. LITTLE GIRL! And I am her mother. Yes, yes, I understand the biology of it, but it seems so fantastical that I created this little being inside me. That she is my DNA and blood. How did I get to be her mother? Suddenly that seems to be a question that makes perfect sense.

In other, less esoteric news, Isabelle had a joyful birthday party. Emily and Gammy flew up (Teen and Steve attempted too but were foiled by Elastic Airlines). Isabelle simply adores Emily and had a wonderful time with her. Emily made her laugh and they ran and played and took baths together. Emily cut out decorations for her party and hung streamers and decorated chockie cupcakes and was a wonderful helper and made Isabelle’s birthday extra special.

See joyousness of cupcake making (and consuming) with cousin Emily:






Isabelle loved seeing “Gammy” too and was showed with toys and gifts and kisses. 37 years later I also understand my Mom’s urge to constantly smooch her children….Isabelle’s chubby, soft cheeks are like a siren’s song, that can’t help but draw you into a kiss.

All of Isabelle’s little friends came to her party, Owie, Carson, Molly, Zach, Riley, Kaylee, and Rilee. There were balloons and pizza, and a lot of noise. Cupcakes and soda and laughter. Isabelle and Kaylee stripped down there little nudie selves and plunged into a very blue colored bath (an even Isabelle likes to chat about) and splashed and laughed and put foamy-soap on each other.












She had a wonderful time was spoiled with gifts. I cannot believe she is two. Happy Birthday my sweet girl!

One, Two, Eight!

Isabelle is full of silly-isms and a touch of the devil these days. Although she will regularly count to ten when asked (or if she is off playing by herself and chatting happily), when she gets ready to do something and the count down is on she invariably says "one, two...eight!" I am not quite sure why eight pops in here and of course I cant help but think of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and the knight who always counts "one, two, five" all the time. Perhaps I watched that movie one too many times and somehow through osmosis she has a touch of Mont Python in her genes. Poor child.

Other silliness includes saying "poor [so and so]" is she ever has to say no to them. For instance, today I asked to borrow her stool so I could hang something in her room. Despite asking "please" I was summarily told "no." Isabelle then said, "poor Mama." She will also call you "poor" if she beats you with a drumstick, flute, or various other toddler-weapon.

One area where I know my genes are certainly at play is her devilishness. My Mom will cackle when she reads this, but I see my past catching up with my future (if you haven't heard about the time I asked my Mom to play 'opera' and when she was in a full wail, shoved my dirty sock into her maw...well, I'll tell you about it sometime. Heh, heh, heh. Whew!). Oh, I digress. My apologies.

Anyhow, at least once in a weekend, bless his soul Paul, gets up with Isabelle and tries to give me an extra hour or two of sleep. This is not easy because Isabelle (a) is a noisy toddler and (b) is all Mama all the time on the weekends. So he brings her down stairs and closes the gate, lest she get back up and wake me. She will always make an attempt to get up the stairs (she cant yet open the gate), but Paul sees her heading toward them and usually stops her (if he doesn't I will often awake to te sound of a bleating child and a gate being rattled as if a battering ram were being used). The bottom line is he keeps a close eye on her so she doesn't even get to the stairs.

Well, Paul is a creature of habit and drinks a pot of black coffee first thing every morning. Isabelle knows this. This past weekend Paul was on toddler-duty when Isabelle noticed his cup was empty and told him "Daddy. Get coffee." She then waited in stealth and as soon as his back was turned, made a mad dash for the gate. I was up soon thereafter.

In other dastardly news she also has tried to (and I admit once successfully) duped me. See, Isabelle likes to draw wit crayons. Mostly though she likes to eat crayons. And while I let this go for a long time the fact that now colored crayon drool ends up as our decorating scheme has forced a change in my permissiveness. So no eating crayons has been the mantra for four of five months now.

Another thing Isabelle enjoys is playing "sleep" with me and Paul. We each pretend to be asleep until she assaults bodily us and tells us "wake up!" This game can sometimes last 15 minutes and she will decide to play it on a whim. So I am laying on the couch the other night and she says "Mama sleep." I dutifully close my eyes and wait to be pummelled. Five seconds pass. Then ten. At this point I wonder whats going on and crack my eyes open ever so slightly to see my darling daughter chomping on "Barn Red." When she sees me see her, she implores me again, "Mama sleep!" But its too late and the crayons are removed.

Isabelle tried the "Mama sleep" ruse on one other occasion, but I was wise and caught her before the could write on the mirror with a marking pen. Somehow, I doubt this is the end of my being duped by one charming, chubby, wonderful, little girl.

A white Christmas.

We had a lovely Christmas Eve an Ninny's house. Isabelle and Molly rode John Koch, we unwrapped the traditional Christmas-Eve-pajamas, and played and had a good time (especially since the Chargers won!)






The next day was Christmas and of course, the forecast was rain. Nothing novel in Oregon. And so we woke up and unwrapped presents. Santa brought Isabelle a farm and a letter puzzle and new bath toys. Grammy bought her a music station, which she loves and jammed on all morning. Of course, with her new bath toys she insisted on having a late morning bath (the trumpeting of "BAAAAAATH!!!!" could be heard six houses down).

She then insisted on running about "nudie" and sampling her new things (as well as three pieces of Mama's See's chocolates).





At about 11 am we looked outside and saw just a few snowplakes falling. I bundled my nudie cherub up in a blanket and took her outside. She was delighted and insisted on putting on her clothes so that she could run about (well, really, I insisted in her putting on her clothes). About 10 minutes later the snowplakes stopped. She asked me for more and I explained that Mama couldn't make snowplakes, only the clouds could. She insisted "more snowplakes!" But, alas, they had gone away.

Maybe 20 minutes later a few more snowplakes started to fall. I was still dressed in my jammies, so John Koch and Daddy took her for a walk outside, towards the park. By the time they were headed back, this is what it looked like:

Isabelle loved the snow. It was tasty too.

Today.

Today I love Isabelle because she says "moodles" instead of noodles. She asks "whats it?" when she observes something new. She squeals and runs to meet me at the door, with a cheery grin, as soon as Paul whispers to her "Mama's home." She loves to kick and splash in her bath and devilishly tries to splash me, even though she knows "water stays in the tub." She says "hold you" when she wants to be held. She snuggles when she is tired. I love Isabelle because she can make me smile when nothing else in my world seems right. I love her because she wants to cuddle first thing in the morning and be held. She delights in puddles and "snowplakes" and playing in the sink. She wants to go the the park even when it's 35 degrees and raining. She lays "I love you Mama" is one single word. She smiles and laughs every day, even when she is sick. I love Isabelle because she spins in circles until she is so dizzy she falls down. So many things are new in her world and she is curious about all of them. I love Isabelle today, and every day, for so many reasons.

Pictures anyone?

We went to San Diego for TG. We spent two nights with Shana and Markus and “the boys” as Isabelle calls them, and two nights with Kristine, Steve and Emily. We had TG dinner with my Mom, saw my Dad and Aunt Barbara and Uncle Dave. Little hearts flew out of Isabelle’s eyes at her second cousin David, and had a fun time all in all. And me being me, I took about 50 pictures. I would love to post the pictures on the blog.

Now, my camera is pretty childproof. You have to push two different buttons to delete a single picture. You have to go into the third layer of the Menu in order to “delete all” – something I have never done because it’s too complicated. Have I heretofore mentioned that Isabelle likes to handle the camera? Anytime I am taking pictures of her she makes a huge grin and then comes at me with a very serious look on her little face, saying “hold it.” I usually let her hold it and she has a good time looking through the live viewfinder and we end up with 3985 pictures of the ceiling or my feet or whatever else she happens to be pointing the camera at when she can maneuver her little fingers to push the picture button.

Weeelllll, last week she was cheerfully taking pictures, or doing whatever her little toddler brain finds fascinating with the camera. Shame on me for not downloading the TG pictures immediately when we got back to Portland, because guess who managed to somehow locate the “delete all” button and push it??? You guessed it, Miss Isabelle did and so my Kodak moments are no more. Sigh…

…

So I have never taken Isabelle for any sort of professional pictures (what? Like I don’t have enough of them myself???). So I decided to dress my little hambone up in her adorable Christmas dress and take her to Babies R Us for some shots. Isabelle as you know loves pictures. She mugs so widely for them, in fact, you can usually count all eight teeth she has, but not be able to see her eye color. So I cheerfully set off to Babies with my adorable Christmas Girl in tow.

We got there about 10 minutes early and watched a group of about five girls, all dressed as Disney princesses sit for their pictures. Ms. Busy tried several times to evade my grasp and scamper up the sitting stage to be with them. Then it was her turn. Here is the adorable outcome:



Cute eh? I damn for hope it is. Because it is one of three, THREE out of maybe 30 shots that was taken in which Ms. Christmas was not howling, crying, or braying “MAMA!!!” at me in the longest 15 minutes I have shared with her since she was squeezing her shoulders through my pelvic region. Good lord. I am not sure what demon possessed her, but the picture experience was not fun. I had thought of taking her to see Santa later that same day and now wonder if I will take her to see Santa anytime before she can drive. Ahhh, the joys of the season.

So much to tell.

I seem to be afflicted with some sort of blogging-block. It’s not that there’s nothing to tell or that I don’t have time, I just seem to be lazy. Maybe it’s the fact that I get up when it’s dark and go home from work when it’s dark. Maybe it’s because I type all the time at work and I am just tired of it. Maybe I am just a huge slacker… It certainly isn’t because Isabelle has been static over the last month. Despite being afflicted from some hack-you-little-ribs-out-I-only-show-up-at-night cough for FIVE WEEKS and a weekend with a fever of 102, she has been quite the busy little bee.

Emmy came to visit us in October. Isabelle is currently in love with Emmy and thinks she is the cats meow, therefore she was extremely happy to visit with Emmy. They played soccer (“socc-ah!” as Isabelle says), decorated cookies, and generally had a fun time. Isabelle is so fortunate to have Emmy and her other, older cousins who simply dote on her. Such the little princess.

It seems like Isabelle’s vocabulary and dare devilishness increase on a daily basis. She not uses three word phrases and remembers new words with an amazing aptitude. She also remembers connections between things, which seems like a little miracle every time it happens, even though it is so fundamental in so many ways. She knows her capital letters by sight (although sometime T and L and E and F get confused), she is learning the ABC song and Twinkle Twinkle, and she can count to 10 all by her little self. When did my baby become a little girl?

She also started getting her upper canines (“fangs” as we call them) about 3 weeks ago and is now getting her lower canines. She does a good job brushing her teeth when I remember to give her the toothbrush and still loves “paste.” In fact, Paul and I have had to start baby proofing our toothpaste because her grubby little hands can now reach into our top drawer and secret away the paste. She eats it you know. Like a snack. And when you ask her how it tastes she will tell you “nummy” with a grin and twinkle in her eye.

In other news she has started to jump from the ottoman to the recliner – always landing on her face and belly, stands up without hands on her zebra and bounces, tries to do the same on her springhorse, and can stand without help on Paul’s wobble board. The child has amazing balance. She also can dribble the socc-ah ball with amazing skill. I foresee many weekends standing in the freezing rain, huddled under a gold umbrella and clutching hot cocoa in my future.

In less fun and frivolous news Isabelle is almost two. And with the dawning of this age, my sweet angel is getting a rusty halo. Oh, its not that she has become a bad child, don’t get me wrong. If you stack Isabelle up against almost any other toddler she is sweeter and more well behaved than 99.9% of them (for instance she knows how to share and take turns and is getting quite good with please “pease” and thank you “tank-ew’). But she certainly has started to test us. She wants to see what she can push and just how far she can push it. Her current items of push include throwing food while she is eating, stuffing things in her maw that are no-no’s (i.e., coins, buttons and her colored bath pellets), and spilling/spitting water from her cup. Sigh…

The food throwing and spilling/spitting are the most irritating. She will be happily eating a meal and then all of the sudden she will stick her little arm straight out, holding her fist at the end, and very deliberately unclench her fist and drop her food on the floor. Alternatively she will madly grasp at whatever is in front of her and wing it with the force of a catapult.

Asking her not to throw her food simply had no impact. Well, other than leading her to scramble for something lese to throw like her fork, knife, bowl etc. So we tell her not to throw, explain its not good manners and Mama doesn’t like it because then she has to clean it up, and then feed her like a baby – one bite at a time. Oh, yes, she will howl to “hold it” – but we remind her she can’t hold it because she threw her food. Usually, she will howl a few more times, fake cry, and then go along merrily taking bites of food until she is full.

The same basic game plan applies to her spilling water. What is it with Isabelle and water?

Sometimes I feel like I am in the movie Groundhog Day only it deals with a toddler and not a girlfriend. It’s more like Groundhog Day meets the Omen. I mean really, how many times do you need to tell a little person not to throw her food or spill her water. Apparently more than I have. And what is it about the human brain that requires this interaction to cause said little person to develop? Ah well, I know I am not along in my Omen Day feature – every other parent in the world goes through it too. As Kristine so wisely tells me “get used to it.”

With all the pushing boundaries and stating and restraining the “rules” I must say its fun to see Miss Isabelle’s little personality develop. She is quite obviously smart, tries to behave and do the right thing, but will do her own thing when she wants to – regardless of the consequence. I think that all makes her a pretty neat and sturdy little person.

Happy Halloween little labybug.

Today was Halloween and Isabelle was a happy little ladybug. Paul brought her to work so she could spread cheer around the office. Turns out the candy at the office spread cheer (and stickiness) to her:






She made sure to visit my assistant Tangi ("Tonjee!"), one of her favorites. Tangi happily drew with Isabelle and let the little buggie type on her keyboard. She also fed her a box of mini tootsie rolls, likely cementing a place in Isabelle's heart forever. Of course, after Isabelle had stuffed almost the entire box into her mouth and was drooling tootsie droll, the ladybug was handed off to Mama...we see you how really are Tangi.



We took her to Linda and Clark's where she trick or treated with Zach and Molly. Here is her first trick or treat door ever:



I am not sure that she caught on to the strange ritual that is Halloween. As you can see below she attempted to break (and enter) into every house we went to. The whole taking candy and leaving seemed a bit mystifying -- if not satisfying gastronomically.





And alas it is fall in Oregon and there are mountains of red and brown leaves piled up on the streets. A perfect recipe for childhood frivolity and fun on a crisp Halloween night.

Skuebees.

Isabelle is starting to put little phases together. Mostly right now its two words and its fairly redundant, i.e., "hold it" "shut it" "close it" "wash it." This morning when Paul went into her room she said "Mama, get" meaning she wanted Paul to get me. I love hearing her new phrases and seeing the wheels turn in her little toddler brain.

She has come up with some phrases and new words that I find particularly cute. When I am with her and she indicates, with outstretched arms, that she wants to be held, I say "do you want Mama to hold you?" She has seized on the last words and now when she wants to be picked up says "hold you" only is sounds like "holjou." Paul took her to the daycare at the MAC and when he came to get her after working out they asked what was the deal with the "horse shoe"....poor Isabelle-sometimes its tough to get held.

The other word I love is "skuebees." Isabelle clearly knows the word "move" and if you are sitting or standing somewhere she wants to b she will push you and bellow "MOVE." Trying to raise a respectful child, I have asked her to say "excuse me" when she is asking someone to move. "Excuse me" comes out as "skuebees" a word which has now become part of our everyday household vernacular.

Isabelle and the Big Apple.

This past week I had to go to New York for some schmoozing of clients. Because we have the frequent flier miles and because I hate to be away from Isabelle, and because Paul has cabin fever, we decided to make it into a mini-family vacation. So on Saturday we jetted off to the Big Apple.

Isabelle and I sat next to each other in first class, with Paul across the aisle. She sat like a big girl in her seat and was generally a very good little traveller.



We had a layover on the way to NY, with a delayed flight, making it a long day. Given that she refused to nap on the plane...at all...she was a little grumpy on the second leg of the flight. There was some yelling and some crying at 30,000 feet - but not too bad. Chris Collinsworth, who shared a cabin with us on the flight, didn't seem to mind too much. Paul made me swear not to tell him I was still bitter about the Chargers/Bengals game from the early 80's...sigh, I am so very constrained.

We stayed at the Ritz, which was a magnificent hotel and right across the street from Central Park. I must admit that the one time I went to NY in 1995 I didn't see Central Park. In my mind I thought it was basically a huge park with running trials. Boy was I wrong. That place has a ton to do and is great for little kids like slides, swings and sand.



They have water-park fountains, which Isabelle of course loved!




The first day at the Park there were a lot of children around, while the second day, not so many. Why the reduction you ask? Because the second day Isabelle went to the Park it was cold. I mean 50 degree cold. Other children (look in the far background on the rocks) had sweaters and sensible clothing on. Isabelle preferred to be "nudie" (Paul required she keep a diaper on to her dismay) and played in the water until her lips started to turn blue and her jaw was chattering. She is such a water-baby.



Isabelle had fun in NYC. We took a carriage ride around the park, ate at fun restaurants (mmmm, pasta and stealing Mama's sandwich--good times!) and had a great time. In particular she liked the subway (or "train" as we called it). She begged to ride it and was unhappy when it stopped. She also had fun riding in the NYC cab, she was alone on the love for that one. She loved seeing the lights in Times Square and would have run down the streets had she been given the opportunity.








Isabelle also loved room service. It was during this trip that she turned the corner using her fork. She also liked the chocolate they put on your bed at night. We didn't realize she found them, until she was on, oh, her third. MMMM nothing says a good start to a great day like chockie for breakfast!

Ice cream and wheels.

And alas, here it it...the coveted tricycle in all of its glory:




Isabelle loves her tricycle. She can't yet use the pedals, but loves to be pushed around wearing her helmet ("helmue"). We use it instead of a stroller when the weather is nice and we don't have too far to go.

A few weeks ago we walked up to a restaurant in our old neighborhood with our good friends Aaron and Melissa and their son Owen. On the way back we stopped by Dairy Queen so that the kids could have a treat. Owen had a cone covered in some nothing-natural-in-it-at-all red shell and Isabelle had a dilly bar. The children were happy, if not messy. Ah, to be young with an ice cream during summertime.






But alas, we live in Oregon where the summer seems to have turned into fall without warning. The rains are back and the sky is gray. It feels like fall. Whilst I sit huddled under blanket on the sofa watching the rain fall and grumbling about the damn weather, one small person in our household looks out the windows with delight. After all the rain is WATER is it not? And who loves water more than Isabelle??? That's right - no one.

So to bleats of "side side" (outside), I open the back door and let her escape. Knowing full well that her dry clean clothes are soon to be a thing of memory. She often invites me rather strongly to join her outside. Sometime I have to take my shoes off so she can scoop cold sand onto my toes. Most of the time I am just required to stand in the rain and push her on the swing. She seems to delight in this activity. Oh, and I have to sing. An activity which wouldn't be quite so troublesome if our neighbors weren't right next door. Lucky for them, and me I suppose, their children don't seem to want to be outside in the rain. So I am generally to embarrass myself with ringing choruses of Twinkle Twinkle while having the rain and cold sink into my bones.




But it makes Isabelle happy. And what in this world could possibly be better than a cheery, chubby, exuberant little girl? Why nothing, of course.