Pumpkin Carvin'

We picked up a pumpkin on Saturday so Zoe could celebrate her first Halloween right. Check it out.

7 Months

Dear Zoë,

Last night I spent the better part of 45 minutes – after you went to bed, of course – fighting your new car seats and your dad’s dinky little car. It was somewhere around 40 degrees in that garage and I was breaking a sweat. That must be some sort of proof of my love for you. I really did give up relaxing on the warm sofa watching Battlestar Galactica to make sure you have a safe and comfortable ride to and from Gram’s house every day. Granted, I would rather watch America’s Next Top Model . . . that would be a tough decision.



Which really says a lot, too, about what you have been doing over the past couple of months. You are quickly growing into a kid. No more of this baby, laying around passive all day business. No longer can we sit you down in the family and walk away to get a drink. Or answer the phone. Or (most importantly) change the channel on the television. Now, you take off after dad and me, and rather quickly.



It’s amazing, but it really was an overnight change. For weeks we knew you had it in you. You so desperately wanted to crawl, but it just wasn’t coming together for you. You’d get up on your hands and knees and then just flop. Or, get up and rock yourself back and forth . . . and then flop. You would lay on your tummy with your arms and legs waving around like a frog in a pond, wailing as if to say, “Momma! I’m not going anywhere!” And then one day, just like that, something clicked. You knew how to crawl. It was a sad, little wounded soldier crawl – one leg trailing “lifelessly” behind you – but legitimate forward movement. Since then, your coordination improves hourly, and I’m not kidding. Your gunshot wound must have healed nicely, because your right leg is back in business.



You continue to be the biggest comedian in the house. I’m not entirely sure what is so funny about the red chenille throw pillows on the couch. I know my decorating these days is kind of a joke, but be kind to your old mom. And the high-pitched squealing noise you’ve discovered . . . I think only dogs are capable of responding at that pitch. And dolphins. Perhaps that’s the answer – I’ve introduced you to the pool and now you think you’re a dolphin. At any rate, I’m sure it will become thoroughly annoying when you’re 2 but I think it’s adorable right now. I’m trying my hardest to respond in kind. It seems, however, that Pooh, Buster, Po and Mr. Panda are your favorite confidantes.

Speaking of Mr. Panda, are you two engaged in some sort of rivalry? Because it seems there is some tension there.



Your dad is fond of calling you my clone. “Katie clone” he’ll say, mostly because you have some many of my features. That may be – you may be my little look-alike. However, you certainly have acquired your dad’s love of all things electronic. And the pricier the better. I mentioned we can’t leave you alone to get up and change the channel. Why don’t we use the remote control? Because you try to take it and eat it. To help deter you from ruining our new Comcast remote (with DVR and OnDemand buttons!), I removed the batteries from our old remote. It’s a remote just for you, but you’d rather have the pretty silver one. Computers are great, too. You love banging on the keyboard, playing with the mouse, and smacking the screen with your flat palm. That sound – fat baby palm on glass – cracks me up. Most of all, you love momma and daddy’s fancy camera. It has all those wonderful buttons on the back!

Our play time is so much fun, now, albeit super-tiring. You have more energy than I ever would have expected. Towards the end of the day, I sometimes catch myself thinking, “Aren’t you tired yet?” You love to topple over anything that’s stacked and the bigger my response, the louder your laughter. You like to try to kiss the baby in the mirror, too, and can’t figure out where that baby is hiding. It’s not on the other side, is it?



Your dad and I have both been working so hard the past couple months, and there have been some late nights for both of us. Each time one of us has to be away from you, every time we aren’t there to put you to bed, it makes us a little sad. We miss you so during the day that we just want to get home and squeeze you! But, there you are the next morning all smiles and sleepy nuzzles. Then, it’s “buh, buh, buh” bottle time and you’re raring to go.

Oh boy. I think I need to start up on caffeine again.

Love you!
Momma

GO BEARS!

It was ugly. Very ugly.

















But, they pulled it out in the end.
















Let's just hope last night's game was a wake-up call. No more complacency, boys! Let's go out there and play it like you mean it . . . every time!

Water Nymph

Last night, Zoë and I went to our first Parent-Tot swimming class. I wasn’t sure how she’d like it (thank goodness I didn’t pay an arm and a leg to register!) because I knew the water wouldn’t be as warm as the tub. She totally hated our little backyard blow-up pool this summer because it was too cold. But, I figured it was worth a try.

It was a complete and total blast! Zoë (surprise, surprise) takes after her mother and took right to the water. As soon as we sat on the edge, and I put her feet in, she started to giggle and kick. Once we got in, she immediately wanted to be on her tummy doing her frog swim*. I even dunked her under three times and she just blinked her eyes and kept going! The “skill” for the evening was blowing bubbles, something Zoë obviously didn’t understand. But, as we swam around the pool I would blow bubbles to show her. By the end of the lesson, she was puckering her lips and dipping her mouth in the water. So cute!

*I just should have known she’d do so well—before she started to crawl, she’d just lay on her tummy on the floor and “frog swim”. And, get frustrated that she couldn’t get anywhere.

She crawls!

Oh shit . . . that means she crawls.

I think we're in trouble.