Trick or Treat with My Mini Me

The past week or so have brought lots more laughs and joy with sweet Pumpkin. I've realized, though, that she may have inherited some of my less than desirable qualities and some of my Type A personality.

First, Pumpkin celebrated her first Halloween this weekend and she was the cutest little ladybug ever, if I do say so myself. All in all, she wasn't too impressed with the whole concept of Halloween. She was underwhelmed by the activity and less than fond of the costumes - hers and others. Since she couldn't appreciate the trick-or-treating or other festivities, I can understand her lack of enthusiasm and hold out hope that future years will bring lots of fun. Of course, I never really liked Halloween (and I still don't and I'm still afraid of mascots/things in masks), so we may be finding other ways to spend Daddy's birthday eve in the future.

Halloween also revealed the strength of our dear Pumpkin's inner schedule. Despite the fact that she loves to stare at clocks, I am pretty certain she can't actually tell time, but I'll tell you what, if 7:30 PM rolls around and she is not in the vicinity of her bathtub all hell is soon to break lose. Our baby is not really a big crier, but she will wake the dead if her routine is interrupted. The first time it happened I thought maybe she was tired or hungry, but soon realized that, no, she just wanted her bath for no other reason than it was bathtime. After her bath it was into PJs and an hour or so of playing before eating and sleeping. Of course, this realization is coming to a mother who, as a 3 year old, insisted on having a schedule of all of her waking hours posted on the refrigerator (despite being barely able to read). I guess I will soon experience the stress I put my own parents through in insisting that things be scheduled and on time at all times.

In other less festive and more mundane news, Pumpkin is officially an eater. She either got hungry or we found the right consistency of food, but in any event, she is now regularly eating solid foods and actually enjoying them. She also appears to have a little of my controlling nature in her though, as she insists on steering the spoon to her own mouth. I've just resigned myself to the fact that meals are going to be messes and look forward to the chaos each and every day.

Comments

Hello! The Phone is Ringing So I Say Hello!

I’m not sure what I expected, really. I guess I thought that when Pumpkin officially crossed the one year threshold into toddler-hood that things miraculously got easier. I had a little parenting-confidence and puffed my chest out just a little as I slowly toddled with her, grasping onto my index finger, to the doctor’s office for her one year appointment (see video for an idea of how slow slow is). I sat proudly in the “well baby” room (a place we haven’t spent much time) remembering the days I sat in that same room crying, looking frantically around for a spare diaper and praying they wouldn’t call her name before I could unhook her from her carseat (which took a long time back then) and changed her diaper. One year later here I was. We had come so far. I was proud of us and I looked at those new mothers with a little knowing pity. In all my one year of wisdom, I sat there glowing with the realization that the hard times were behind us. I didn’t have a “baby” anymore, I had a toddle

Good Night, Sleep Tight, Don't Let the...WHAT?

As many of you know, when Pumpkin was first born I was a frantic mess. Every time she inhaled, I timed it and then Googled it to make sure it was "normal." I did not have time to nap, even in those early exhausted days, because I was constantly checking the Internet to make sure that both she and I were doing everything "right." Unfortunately, I realized too late that the Almighty Internet is a wealth of knowledge...and of useless crap. Anyone who wants can post anything they want on the Internet. Take this Blog for instance - I have no particularized knowledge about anything maternal, but I could start writing exclusively about how if your child is not snorting five packets of Kool-Aid each morning, she is doomed to be a terrible speller. Of course this is not true (or at least there is no scientific evidence to back it up), but I could write it here and, based on my writing about my own "experience" some new mother would be at Sam's stocking up on t

Salute Her When Her Birthday Comes

So, I'm a year older than last time I posted. Birthdays have always been a time of introspection for me. I have a natural tendency to get stuck in my own head anyway. Occasions like birthdays only make it worse. It didn't help that this year I turned 33 on the same weekend as the Inauguration and MLK day. I'm sure you're asking yourself what any of this has to do with...well, anything. Let me start with 33 - or, as my sister-in-law put it in a text to me, "the age of Jesus." That's right, as depressing as it might seem, I keep dwelling on the fact that I'm now the age that Jesus was when he died. 33. He died on a cross to save all mankind. I, on the other hand, was glad my children got out the door this morning without too much unidentifiable crust on their faces. Then there is MLK, who died in his thirties for the cause of all of humanity - peace, equality, love. And then there's the Inauguration. Now, whether you voted for Obam

Sugar and Spice

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