Wow!

I took a risk last night. I made plans to meet Anne (and one of her girls – she wasn’t sure which one when we arranged it) in our little downtown for walking and dinner. It was a risk because we planned to meet at 5:45. Zoë usually goes to bed no later than 7:00. Add to that the fact that she’s teething, again (3 teeth at once, it looks like), and the sore bottom that always comes with it, and this was a considerable risk. Toddler meltdown was pretty much imminent. Big momma risk.

Zoë was surprisingly pleasant and well-mannered. All-in-all, a really nice evening – perfect warm, summery weather, a few cute shops, good greasy onion rings, and a night out with your girlfriend on a Wednesday. Amazing.

We didn’t get home until 7:45. I knew full-well that a bath was out of the question and that I better get her in bed ASAP. When we walked in the house, BJ met me at the laundry room door, ready to take the howling monkey off my hands. Only, there wasn’t a howling monkey. Just my tired but relaxed daughter. She got jazzed to see her daddy and I set her down. As I retell the evening to BJ our conversation is interrupted by a sweet, “Wow!” And then another. For a full 5 minutes, Zoë is walking around the house seemingly in awe . . . of something. All she can say is, “wow!”

All I can figure is one of two things was happening. She figured out how to make a new sound, so she wanted to repeat it. Really, though, I think she was simply marveling at the world that exists after she goes to bed. Wow, indeed.

Eyes Wide Shut

Last night at dinner – a rare meal where all three of us were able to sit down together – BJ and I looked over at Zoë to find her squinting. Squinting with her whole face scrunched up like she was smiling into the sun. Thinking she simply found something funny, he asked, “What are you laughing at?” She relaxed, then did it again. It took us a little while, but we started to realize that she was closing her eyes. On purpose and of her own volition. And she thought it was hysterical.

She learned how to shut her eyes “on command”. Not just when she sneezed, or was tired, or had to blink. The joy she seemed to get from this accomplishment was entertainment for the rest of the meal. “Zoë, close your eyes!” Close. Squint (“are they watching?”). Giggle.

One more example of something you never realize you learned to do. And one more simple joy from experiencing life through a child.

What were you doing?

In the past week or so, Zoë’s expressive vocabulary has been rapidly expanding. To her already “impressive” mama, dada, bup (up), and the usual animal sounds (woof, meow, pig snorts, quack, cluck, and even a lion roar) she’s now added “bird”, “down”, “off”, “hot”, and “uh-oh”. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s saying other words, we just don’t understand them, yet. Occasionally something bizarre and unexpected will pop out, like “cracker” (kahkeh). But yesterday I had to do a double take. And keep myself from laughing.

I did what all good parents do, I left my child unattended downstairs while I ran upstairs to retrieve her dress. She’d been babbling and eating her snack, but in the 30 seconds I was gone she grew very quiet. When I returned, she came running towards me from the sunroom – not where I had left her. Granted, there wasn’t anything dangerous or destructive she could have gotten into, but nevertheless looked caught in the act. I said, “What were you doing?” in my best parent tone.

“Nuh-teen.” And then she grinned.

What am I thinking?

Over the weekend, as summer weather has finally arrived, I decided it was time to actually don a bathing suit. To go outside (obviously, I’ve been wearing a suit for swim lessons). I pulled out my bikinis from last year to find that – quite depressingly – the tops were too big (nursing!) and the bottoms a skosh too small. To make matters worse, the clasp was broken on one of them. Time for a new suit! Now, I am not a one-piece person, unless I’m swimming laps. So, I returned once more to my favorite, Target, to peruse the racks. I’m all about green this year and this one caught my eye. I didn’t try it on, pretty confident in my size given the ones I have at home. But, as I drove home, I began to get a little twitchy. Can I really pull this off? A string bikini top? Am I too old for this nonsense? On top of it, I’m a less-than-perfectly-toned mommy. Can I tote around a 30-lb-er on my hip without scaring small children with my midsection?



I’m going to go for it.