Happy Birthday, Mom.
Category Archives: Birthdays
Months, years and whatever else is notable.
9 Month Porter: tongues, toilets, catfood, clapping
A big round of applause for our little McGoo, who has managed to make it – alive and healthy – to his 9-month birthday. And for that I congratulate all of us, as there were honestly some moments when I thought the earth was going to open beneath our feet and swallow all four of us in one giant gulp.
As I mentioned earlier this week, I am (naievely?) optimistic that we are finally moving from Chaos-Land into Settling-Down-ville. Stella really and truly seems to enjoy and appreciate Porter more and more every day, Steve and I realized that perpetual forward motion is the key to survival, and most importantly, I have finally come to the conclusion that if I don’t stop my bitching, the whiner police are going to come haul my kids away and give them to someone who completed the program in This is Parenting You Big Baby, So Just Suck it Up Already – a degree in which I apparently took an Incomplete.
There are quite a few little McGoo idiosyncrasies that I have been remiss in chronicling on these pages of late. Following is a a quick laundry-list of some of the charming qualities that make us scramble to be the first to say, “Um, yeah. He get’s that from your side.”
Behold the tongue thing.
I’ve got about a million more where that came from. Think of it this way: The harder he concentrates, the more that tongue figures into the equation.
Then there’s the toilet and catfood thing. I have already mentioned his need to loiter in areas that keep him strategically positioned to bolt for either the bathroom or laundry room. I am not exaggerating when I say that he can be in the living room playing quietly, and the moment he hears that bathroom door open, he will drop everything and move at mach-5 to get there. 99.9% of the time we catch him. As for that .01% that we don’t, well, I think you can figure it out. Like, for example, last week while I was handling a Crisis Level 3 situation (untangling Stella from the mini-blinds) and someone stealthed his way into the bathroom. By the time I realized he wasn’t in the kitchen where I had left him, he had already managed to soak his entire upper body in toilet bowl water. As I raced in there to prevent him from taking a full-on swim, the look on his face as could fairly accurately be described as saying, “It’s exactly as beautiful as I’d imagined it. And, given the opportunity, I’ll do it again in a second, lady. Count on it.”
And, there is that thing about how he worships his sister, and can’t get out of earshot of her without nearly panicking. Now that he is moving under his own power he trails her like a shadow. And to my delight, she actually kind of indulges him. As she and I headed out to do some errands last week, I asked her if she wanted it to be just the two of us, or if we should bring Porter too. Without even considering it she said, “Porter has to come too!” I guess if I had someone worshipping my every breath I’d want to keep them as handy as possible too. As a testament to this wonderful (albeit temporary) sibling cameraderie, Porter unveiled a new trick to us last night, but now only will do it at Stella’s prompting. Before he decided that we weren’t worth his time, I managed to get a tiny video clip of it. The reason it gets so shaky (beware of motion sickness) is because I am trying to simultaneously hold the camera and clap my hands – something he will now mimic us (or, rather, Stella) doing. If you look closely, you’ll also see that tongue…
Porter wishing he had a set of cymbals.
And here’s a (dark and grainy) clip of Stella and Porter in a high speed chase scene.
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And for those of you who need to update your flip-charts (and you know who you are, Judy Walston): 22 lbs | 27 inches | size/height: average | 7 teeth | chest: same | slight baby bowleggedness (absolutely common) | advised that sleep problems need proactive resolution, given name of new literary resource
Happy 3rd Birthday, Stella!
Hi Stelly,
Last weekend you turned three.
It was intended as a low-key affair, with a few of your peeps from the inner circle, and one set of grandparents. However, this party was a testament to the fact that birthday fun is in no way limited by small numbers. That day, the four of you were only beaten in energy production by THE SUN. Had we actually invited your entire class from school, there is a good chance that we would have been able to sell back some kilowatt hours.
As you peruse the photos from this year’s festivities, don’t be too alarmed when you stumble across the photos of your “birthday cake”. You’ll note that I put birthday cake in quotes to signify that it is wholly innacurate to consider this thing a celebratory confection. I saw the writing on the wall when you insisted that, this year, you wanted a round cake with a ladybug. Stella, there is a reason you have had cupcakes for your first two birthdays: I am not a particularly good baker. Furthermore, I am horrid at frosting and decorating cakes. Your father – ripe with naiveté – decided it couldn’t be THAT hard. HA. Well, it tasted good – nevermind the pools of strawberry cream cheese frosting encircling the entire base of the cake, or that the two layers had to be held together with sawed-off bamboo skewers, or that it was adorned with creepy red and black bugs with sharp and pointy claws. The latter of which, I am sure will give you nightmares for a while. The lesson here is that I need to Mom-up and get better at this whole birthday cake thing, or you are destined for a life of disfigured cakes with depictions of abstract buttercream motifs. And, I love you just too much to let that happen.
This past year has been full of so many big changes for you. I have watched you go from toddler to girl, and then some. You are silly and fun and stubborn and smart. Oh girl, are you smart. Listening to you talk – how you say your words, and string thoughts together reminds me, daily, just how much you are growing up. And, this year you were thrown the mother of all curve-balls: a younger brother. It has been a joy to watch you fill the role of big sister. As these pages will attest, it has been bumpy, but hopefully it is also clear that it has been fun, and overwhelmingly joyful to watch our family take form. Through all the chaos, arises my admiration for you, and what a great girl you are becoming. In case you, or anyone else out there is wondering – yes, I know how lucky I am.
Happy day, sweet girl.
The Chosen One turns 2.
Somehow, the Birthday Weather Santa – you know, the one who keeps the list of kids who are naughty and nice and then provides them with correspondingly good or bad weather for the day of their birthday party – must have been in an awfully generous mood this year because we were blessed with some serious sunshine for Stella’s 2nd birthday party. It was one of those freakishly nice days where everyone was incredulous, and it became one of the recurring topics of conversation throughout the party. Not to worry though, 2-year-old’s don’t really care what adults are saying as long as they are staying out of the way of the gummy bears and jelly beans. So the adults were free to discuss whatever boring adult topics they wanted – as long as they didn’t interfere with the kid’s ability to consume massive quantities of artificial flavors, colors and sweeteners.
Speaking of unspeakably yummy sugar – a couple of weeks before her birthday, I started asking Stella what kind of cake she wanted. From the first to the twenty-first time I asked her, the answer was the same: strawberry. No discussion, no reason, no negotiation – plain and simple: strawberry. I kept thinking that I would mock up something that looked like strawberry, but didn’t actually taste like a pixy stick. Something that incorporated actual strawberries as decoration, giving the illusion of strawberry without actually having to stoop to the second lowest artificial flavor on the food chain (the lowest being grape). In the end I was able to meet everyone’s needs and came up with a decent cake that used real strawberries, and a cream cheese frosting that used real strawberries, then topped each cupcake with – GASP! – another real strawberry.
I got away with it this year, but know that it may be the last.
Happy 2nd Birthday, Stella!
Hi Stelly-Belle,
Today you are two…going on 15. It was just last month your dad reminded me that a year ago you weren’t even walking yet. It is nearly impossible to remember a time when you didn’t bolt from us every time we try to get you dressed, or that you were ever incapable of telling us EXACTLY how you were feeling. They were right – it really does go fast.
If we have discovered anything over the last two years it is that you learn and change at lightning pace, and that we had better take it all in while we can or we will miss it. We have had to learn to embrace this pace, as it is what keeps us sane. Less than desireable stages pass just as quickly as the ones we would like to hang onto forever. Some things have remained though, and we are ever thankful of your ability to be supremely adaptable, social and fun. You can be curious to a fault and, aside from the vacuum cleaner, you seem to fear nothing.
It is so easy to get caught up in the moment when it comes to dealing with our day-to-day lives. I find myself always having to step back and reorient to the fact that all your pushing and prodding is what you are SUPPOSED to be doing, and that it is up to me to direct it, not strong-arm you into submission. Unfortunately, this realization was not founded on my maternal wisdom, but on the fact that after losing the umpteenth battle of wills with you, realizing I needed a better strategy. See Stella? I’m growing up too.
Your dad and I, although always amazed in your growth and abilities, have tried hard to continually praise you on your efforts rather than your accomplishments. I know this sounds wierd and new-agey, but it means something to us that you are not just blindly showered with praise for every detail of your existence (that is what your grandparents are for). We love you more than we ever could have imagined was even possible, and want you to know that we will be there for you to the ends of the earth. We also want you to know that your ability to be strong & independent, kind & compassionate, and wholly self-assured are things we strive to instill in you each and every day.
I know I spend the better part of my time waxing poetic on this site about the insane and frustrating things you do, but in reality you are one of the best things I have ever done in my life. My ranting has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. You see, I am new at this mom thing and, well, it isn’t as easy as it looks. Writing all this stuff down really helps me gain perspective, and allows me to glimpse how funny and tedious it all really is in the big picture…and how great a kid you really are. This next year is going to be a big one for all of us, and I know that you are going to make the best big sister ever.
Happy Birthday, Stelly.
