Talking Back

Reese: I want to touch Miles’s bum bum

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Me: Reese if you don’t stop drinking the bath water out of that cup I am going to take the cup away.

<starts drinking bath water straight from the tub>

Reese: Mama gonna take the tub away?

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Me: <One morning, after watching Reese pick up something off the floor and eat it> Reese, what is in your mouth?

Reese: It’s probably a piece of my dinner.

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Reese: Are you ok, Jackie? <said to me in an ultra sympathetic/almost mocking voice, with head cocked to the side>

Big Girl Bed Still A Big Hit

We are probably setting a bad precedent, but Reese’s favorite thing to do is jump on her new bed. She says “I want to jump!” and she likes to have an audience when she does it. When her cousin joins, it is even more fun. My mom, sister and I were cracking up as the two of them went crazy on the bed (Mira got so crazy she lost her pants.)

There were some tumbles, a couple of collisions, and some run ins with the wall, but I think this my have been the best day of Reese’s life.

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Big Girl Beds

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Andrew and I had been talking about moving Reese out of the nursery and into one of our spare bedrooms for awhile. We thought it would be best to transition her from a crib to a bed before baby # 2 came, but I was procrastinating because I wasn’t sure she was ready.

Just before New Year’s, in a momentary episode of panic that occurred when I realized that the baby would be here in less than 2 months, we set up a twin mattress on the floor of Reese’s new bedroom.

We didn’t put anything else in there aside from the mattress. Too risky.

On multiple occasions in the nursery, I had witnessed Reese take down her humidifier, stand up and surf on her glider, try to swing from her curtains, and attempt to pick up and move her diaper pail. God knows what she would do when left to her own devices all night.

I had serious angst about this. Visions of her busting out of the room and wreaking havoc on our upstairs, or worse, trying (and succeeding) in opening the baby gate and falling down the stairs haunted me.

Before bedtime that first night, we realized that we would have to have her monitor and her CD player (she refuses to go to bed without her music playing) on the floor of her room. I told Reese that after stories Mom and Dad would leave the room and Reese should stay in her bed and sleep.

Yea right. I felt ridiculous even saying this to her. I know she was laughing at me on the inside.

This is how the first night went.

7:15 – Andrew comes downstairs after reading Reese stories.

7:18 PM – We hear a clicking noise and the monitor goes off. Andrew goes up to turn it back on. He opens the door to find a small individual, clad in a snowman onesie, hunched over the monitor. Upon seeing him in the doorway she quickly darts back to her bed. Andrew turns the monitor back on.

7:20 PM – He goes back downstairs and the monitor is promptly turned off again. He goes upstairs and takes it out of her room.

7:25 PM – After refusing to go the night without a monitor, I go back upstairs and set it up outside of her door, hoping we will at least hear her if she gets out of the room. While I am setting it up, I hear a loud fumbling with the doorknob and a small, pathetic little voice saying,  “I need some help with the door.”
I go into the room and lay with Reese until 7: 50 PM. She babbles for thirty minutes next to me in the bed. Some snippets from this convo with herself include “I eat ALL the chocolate chips”, “We allllllllll sleeping in the bed”, and “Where’s the Mama monkey?” When I tell her I am going to leave she wraps her arms around my neck and pleads for me to sleep in the bed with her. My heart is ripped from my chest.

7:58 PM – I leave the room after succumbing to requests for more books and following instructions on which stuffed animals should be put in the bed with her. She also throws her pillow at me and says “no pillow!” There are a few moans, a little crying, and then when I get back downstairs we hear silence through the monitor. Silence is the scariest thing to hear. I don’t know if there is silence because she’s actually being quiet and settling down, or if we just can’t hear her through the door. We hear various other bumps and thumps over the next hour or so, but no crying, so we are good.

10 PM – I peek into the room to find Reese asleep in the bed, on top of all the covers, using her Elmo as a pillow. Victory.

I feel that we got off pretty easy that first night. The second night was similar to the first, except with the monitor being taken from the room, she focused her attention on her CD player. She kept turning up the volume and blasting her nursery rhymes until they echoed through our house.

Now, the novelty of the room seems to have worn off and she usually just goes right to sleep after stories. She does wake up in the night sometimes, which she never did before, and scares the crap out of me when she shows up next to my bed, two inches from my face; but it doesn’t happen too often. When it does, she refuses my offers to come into our bed and insists that I lay with her in the “big girl bed.”  And so I roll myself out of bed, flop onto the mattress on the floor and snuggle up with Reese, all three Elmos, Zoe, Cookie Monster, Big Bird, Nahla, Froggy and the Octopus until she is able to drift off to sleep again.

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2013

2013 was a big year for us.

Reese turned two in November.

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This is what a lot of two has looked like so far…..110_phixr

She may not have loved her birthday party, but some people had fun.

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My sister got married in November and Reese was a flower girl. We got her to walk down the aisle by bribing her with lollipops. I learned an important parental lesson; candy gets shit done.

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We found out that baby number 2 would be coming to us in February 2014 and that Reesie would be getting a new cousin (her third!) in early March.

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Glasses were a big hit this year.

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Reese understood Christmas a little more this year. By this I mean that she knows nothing about the day being a celebration of the birth of Christ but everything about Santa, candy canes and presents.

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It was a year full of exciting firsts; first time eating an ice cream cone, first time swimming in a lake, first time riding an unenclosed train in frigid cold temperatures when Mom forgot your hat and mittens, etc. There were also some  “oh my god she’s no longer my baby” lasts. Your second, and last year as an only child, the last time you used a baba (pacifier), the last time sleeping in your crib (more on this soon.) The list goes on, and we know it is only just beginning.

Cheers to 2014. We can’t wait to see what it will look like.

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At Two Years

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Dearest Reese, Reesie-Roo, Reesie-Pie, Reese-a-roni,

On November 29th we celebrated your second birthday over a chocolate cupcake and a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

At two years old you are talking up a storm (in a weird Boston/NYC-ish accent) and we love coming home from work and hearing about your day, even if most of the details are fabricated.

You are a little boss lady and one of your favorite things to do is to tell people where they should sit. “Mama, sit here!” “Dada, sit on the floor, read a book!”

You love music, instruments and dancing. Every night after your bath you run to your CD player, press play and dance like a naked maniac to whatever song comes on. Most nights the dance party ends in tears when I pick you up to put you in your pajamas. From your changing table, with fat tears rolling down your cheeks, you often cry out, “I want to dance!” Jessie Spano style. It’s both sad and hilarious.

And oh yea, you are a drama queen. You have taken to burying your face in your hands and shaking your head when you don’t get something you want.

You love telling us what you don’t like. You say it sternly and tersely, “I don’t like it!” Your father and I often use this and a few of your other catchphrases (said in your voice) when we are talking to each other, and we crack ourselves up. Dislikes noted include the doctor, your unborn sibling, Miles, whatever I make you for dinner, candles, and Elmo when he wears a disguise/costume (you get particularly offended when he dresses like a cowboy.)

You are a Daddy’s girl. You want Dada to give you a bath, Dada to read you stories and Dada to sing “Kookaburra” to you around the clock. I am accepting the fact that you have no loyalty to the one who carried you for 9 months. I see how it is.

We know you are our child because you love food. Certain food. You are super picky but you would eat all day long if we let you (sorry, girl.) You like to say, “I eat like cookie monster”, and then shove food into your mouth with both hands. At Thanksgiving, when Dada asked you what you were thankful for you said food first, then your books. We like your priorities. You love graham crackers, Cheerios, apples, oatmeal, bananas, peanut butter and banana sandwiches, cream cheese and jelly sandwiches, raisins, rice and beans, and little else (aside from the obvious; cookies, cakes, ice cream, chips etc.)

You let us put you down to sleep every night with no problem.  When we go downstairs we look at your monitor and see you sitting in your crib, turning the pages of your books in the pitch dark. In the morning when we open your door the first thing you say is, “Go downstairs and eat oatmeal!”

You are coming out of your shell a bit more around other kids. You are slowly getting braver and don’t always run away from other kids, especially if they have the good toys. It takes you awhile to warm up to new people, but usually after 15 minutes or so you feel comfortable enough to tell them where they should sit and what they should do.

We look forward to your third year so much; to seeing you as a big sister and to hearing more of what you have to say. We wish you would stop growing up so fast, but we love seeing the little person you are becoming. You make it really hard to not be one of those parents who brags about their kid all the time, so I just do it on this blog instead.

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Talking Back

Me: Reese you did such a good job with your dinner. That makes me so happy!

Reese: I feel pride
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Reese: We goin’ to Gammy an Grandpa’s house. I wear my necklace, my earrings and my ring.
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Reese <to me, while I’m holding my cousin’s new baby>: That baby wants to get down!
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Reese: Mama’s belly has a baby

Me: That’s right, it’s your little brother or sister.

Reese: I don’t like the baby.

Awesome.

Halloween. 3 Weeks Later.

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Some belated Halloween pictures from Reese’s first time trick-or-treating.

We went with some neighborhood friends and as you can see, Reese tore up the town.

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In the week leading up to Halloween we talked a lot about how we would go out that night, ride in the wagon, knock on people’s doors and say “trick-or-treat!” After our first house I realized that I had left out some important info, namely the fact that we don’t bomb into the people’s houses, we just wait in the doorway. Also, the people will usually hand us the candy and we don’t have to grab the bowl from their hands, force it down to our level, and help ourselves. Turns out Reese is an aggressive trick-or-treater.

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24 Weeks

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This is me. 24 weeks along.

I am laughing in this picture because selfies are just ridiculous, especially in my state. The inside-out shirt is the least of my problems.

When I was pregnant with Reese, my hair got shinier, my skin got clearer, and I was told on more than one occasion that I had that “pregnancy glow.” This time, not so much. I have painful, nasty looking spider veins on my legs, my face is breaking out like I’m in high school, and people usually just tell me that I look tired (I guess I’ll take that over “huge”, which was also a crowd favorite last time around.)

New Things: Braxton Hicks contractions have started and are not pleasant. I don’t really remember feeling them until much later with Reese, but the  uncomfortable, tightening/clenching feeling is currently happening almost every day.

Weight: 14 lbs gained overall. I have been scared to look at the scale since I got my cast off 3 weeks ago, but it hasn’t been as bad as I thought.

Measuring: Average, which makes me happy. I measured large throughout my pregnancy with Reese and the doctors estimated that I was having a 10 lb baby (she was 8.5.) I have a thing for big babies though so aside from the actual birthing part, I’m hoping for another chunker.

Food Cravings: Any/all food. Prego problems.

Gender: No idea. Come February, baby number 2 will surprise us again, just like his/her big sister did.

First Chore

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Reese has her first chore.

A few weeks ago, Andrew began asking Reese if she wanted to help him feed Miles. She got really excited about it and would follow him around, getting the food, filling the bowl and then, her favorite part, giving the command, “Miles, EAT.”

The other night Reese was coloring in the kitchen when all of a sudden she got out of her chair and ran past me muttering to herself, “I have to feed Miles.” I cracked up. I thought she was going to pretend to feed her or something, but no, she busted into the office, opened the office closet door (whaaat!?!) took out the Tupperware container filled with the dry dog food, carried it into the hallway, set it on the floor next to Miles’s dish, stuck her hand in and began putting the food in the dish, piece by piece.

I know this probably doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was. I was blown away. It’s a mom thing I guess (I promise I mean that in the most un-obnoxious and maybe slightly sarcastic way possible.) In that moment she was now officially a kid. Baby no more.

It took her at least 15 minutes to fill up Miles’s dish. Miles waited patiently nearby, a puddle of drool forming at her feet.

Thus, Reese’s first chore was born, and we have learned that she is fiercely protective of it.

Last night when Andrew asked her to help him again, she got real pissed, real fast, when he tried to pour the food out of the container into the dish. She kept yelling “By hand!” which we can only assume  means she prefers to take the food out morsel by morsel using her hands. She gets even more fired up when the canned food is introduced into the mix. When Andrew began spooning it into the dish she yelled, “get away!” Sidenote: I know for a fact that she got that phrase from me so I just cowered in shame while Andrew looked at her in disbelief.

We have no idea why she hates the canned food, but think it has something to do with the fact that she feels that it messes up the dry food creation she has carefully crafted.

I vividly remember heated arguments with sisters over whose turn it was to feed our dog back in the day, so I am embracing this brief period of time when chores are new and exciting and being helpful is fun. Like most other things, I’m sure it will be over before I’m  ready.

Potty Dances

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This is our Elmo potty. Note the pretend “flusher.” When pushed, Elmo’s creepy laughter echoes throughout our house. The back of the potty shows Elmo wearing a scuba mask and swimming underwater. I have a problem with this, as I feel like it is implying that Elmo is swimming in the potty which is gross, and in my opinion, sending the wrong message about how potties are to be used.

We haven’t been great about consistency with “potty training”, if you can even call it that. We put Reese on it every now and then, but up until this week she had probably only gone in it once. The rest of the time she just sat on it and read books or “magazines.”

She has also learned to use it against us. She quickly realized that whenever she would say “pee pee” or “poo poo” we would stop whatever she was doing, take off her diaper, rush her to the Elmo potty, and read books to her. She used this to escape bath times, bedtimes, naps, and basically anything she deemed unfavorable.

The past two nights Reese has done a poop (TMI?) in the potty before bath time. Each time she does it, we make a big deal. There is applause and a song and dance that includes roof raising on my part and circular running with arms raised on her part. The song goes “Reesie went in the pot-tee, Reesie went in the pot-tee. Yea Reesie yea!” You can tell she is extremely proud and it might be the best part of the day for all of us.

Reese particularly enjoys the cheering part. Sometimes, she will sit down, make a few grunting noises, then stand up, point to the empty potty and say, “Yay! You did a poop!” (there is some confusion surrounding pronouns) and clap for herself. Sometimes she’ll add a, “Good job!” in there as an extra pat on the back to herself. When she fakes it like this, Andrew and I always remind her, “No Reese, you didn’t do a poop, but thanks for trying.” The other day she sat down, pretended to go, jumped up, started clapping and pointing at the empty potty and said, “Yay, you did a poop! No you didn’t.” then sat back down.  We had witnessed an internal battle and truth had prevailed.

So this is our method. There is no real method. We sit her on the potty at the same time each night and if she goes, we have a party. If not, that’s ok too. If she pretends to go, we just remind her of the cold, hard truth,  “No you didn’t.”

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PS Please disregard the giant bruise on Reese’s head. She fell the other night in the kitchen and knocked her head on the floor. She took it like a champ but it was a nasty one.