Twirly whirly

As I mentioned previously, Chris’s parents were in town last weekend visiting, meaning that our precious princess was spoiled rotten for a few days. And I get it. That’s what grandparents do - Feed their grandbabies sugar, buy them lots of toys and give them whatever they want. Good times for Grandpa, Grandma and Taylor, but then Momma and Daddy are stuck with the aftermath when they head home to Texas.

And when I say Aftermath, I mean the TEMPER TANTRUMS. Like yesterday when she threw her body on the floor and screamed at the top of her lungs because I wasn’t going to give her cookies for breakfast. Or last night, when she got SO MAD that we wouldn’t let her try and squeeze her giant bottom into the baby stroller. Or today, when she was tired of her banana and THREW it off her highchair, all while squealing that high-pitched squeal that only dogs and dolphins can understand. Not pretty.

And because I don’t want to subject you all to the misery of a toddler melt-down, I’ll give you a cuter clip of my baby girl that I took a week ago:

THIS is what I remind myself of during her red-faced come-aparts - That underneath all that toddler angst is my twirling, precious punkin-head. And I love her. Even when I’m scraping banana off the dining room floor.

Libba’s WNC wedding venue tour

The Famous Amys traveling band has had a packed house this weekend, with both Chris’s parents and my sister visiting. Greg and Sue got into town on Thursday, and they have basically been within an arm’s length of their one-and-only grandchild ever since. Yep, it’s pretty much been Christmas in September for our little princess, and at one point this afternoon Chris’s mom looked at me and said, Honestly, that little girl is such an angel. I haven’t seen one temper-tantrum since we’ve been here. To which I replied, She also got two new baby dolls and hasn’t heard the word NO since you’ve been here either. Meaning we’re in for a wicked grandparent-hangover starting tomorrow afternoon.

And with Libba getting into Ashe-Vegas on Friday night, all the extra Taylor-attention almost caused our house to shift off its foundation. Meaning the world just can’t handle that much spoilage of one little girl.

And other than coming to just hang out with us, Libba arrived in Western North Carolina with the mission of finding a wedding venue for her August 2010 nuptials. And being the type-A person she is, we had a packed itinerary for Saturday, driving around the mountains to see four different locations and trying on dresses at two separate bridal stores. And because Taylor was preoccupied with her Grandma and Grandpa, just me and my sis were able to jump in the car and go off on our adventure. It was wonderful. Well, except when Libba was mauled by overly-friendly dogs at the first venue.

Here is the bride-to-be at some of our stops along the way:

Seven hours, a new pair of Frye boots and an Ultimate Grilled Cheese sandwich later, Libs and I got back to the house, opened a bottle of champagne and reflected on the day. Of the four places we saw, we loved one, kinda-liked another and totally ruled out the other two. I saw my sis in a number of gorgeous dresses, and we were able to add a few more styles to her growing list of Maybes. And even though nothing was ultimately decided upon, I think we made some progress on her and Dirk’s wedding. And even if we didn’t, at least we had a blast driving though the mountains and spending a sister-day together.

Trying to say buh-bye to the bah-bah

Right after getting back from the farm and closing in on Taylor’s 17-month birthday, I finally made the decision to start weaning T off the bottle. And for those of you rolling your eyes in that my almost year-and-a-half old child STILL takes a bottle, know that the snuggle-time this Momma gets right after a bottle is absolutely priceless. BEST SNUGGLES IN THE WORLD. Why on Earth would anyone want to give that up? Especially when time spent not cuddling is going to be spent dealing with class-A nuclear melt-downs because there is a sippy cup in place of her thrice-daily bottle.

And because I’m a cuddle-junkie, I decided to just knock off one bottle at a time, starting with her after-nap bottle. And on that first day, while she was stretching off her nap, she took one look at that sippy cup filled with milk and gave me a face that would only compare to the reaction my husband would have if someone decided to canceled the Super Bowl. Frantic, confused and just NOT HAPPY. So not happy to the point that she actually slapped the sippy cup out of my hand, wriggled off my lap and threw her crying-self on the floor. And only because Chris was right there, cheering on the sippy cup the whole time, did I not fly into the kitchen and make her a bottle. Because, as a mother or father, watching your kid cry because of something you did is about the worse thing in the whole world. Which is another reason this parenting thing is the HARDEST JOB EVER.

And not only did I replace the bottle with the sippy cup, but it was a NEW cup. A completely different style of sippy cup. For the last almost-year, all juice or water she has drank had come from a straw-cup, not a regular tip-up cup. Which, now I know, is a horrible idea for a beginners cup, as Taylor learned to NOT raise up her arms when she wanted a swig from her sippy cup. Just sit and suck. Which made my daughter a super lazy drinker.

So, on the third day’s encounter with the after-nap not-bottle, she FINALLY grabs the tip-up sippy cup and tries to SUCK out the milk, holding it like she would if it had a straw. And when no milk got in her mouth, she was NOT HAPPY. And after a two minute long canceled-Super Bowl face, I grabbed the cup and tilted it up for her. And she let me feed her for a few minutes, and then I stopped because that was about the same thing as just feeding her a bottle. Only without snuggles. So I wasn’t going to do it. It was all or nothing.

I would wrap her hands around the cup and help her lift it, but the moment I let go she would let it drop to the ground, stare me down and start crying. Such a little manipulator. I mean, if the girl’s smart enough to repeatedly clasp an airplane seatbelt, can throw a basketball across the room AND figure out how to open the bathroom drawer safety-locks, then I think she’s bright enough to figure out how to hold her own sippy cup. She was totally taking advantage of me. Who do I look like? GRANDMA? No, ma’am. Momma’s not backing down on this one, Sweetheart. There’s a new sheriff in town.

So this tug-of-war has been going on for a few weeks now, and it hasn’t been pretty. And on a side-note, the weather has been cooling down so we’ve had the windows open all day. Meaning the neighbors are probably scratching their heads as to why, when three o’clock rolls around, the Amys house sounds like a torture chamber. Two days ago it was so bad that I finally threw a giant blanket on the floor in order to protect her head as she flailed about the living room. It was THAT ridiculous. And I know that this is the Universe’s way of getting back to me for as easy she switched from breast to bottle. She couldn’t have cared less at the time, all she wanted was to be fed. She didn’t skip a beat then, and now she won’t even LIFT HER ARMS.

And just about when I ready to crack, give her a bottle and vow to home-school her for the rest of her life, this afternoon we turned a corner. Did she cry when she saw the sippy cup - Yes. It lasted all of four minutes, which was how long it took me to turn on Dora and get her fruit snacks. And then I sat down, asked her how her snack was. Good, she says with a nod. Which sounds more like Gut, but whatever. And then I asked if this was a good episode of Dora, and she nodded, Yep. And then I asked her to take a drink of her milk. And she looked down, grabbed her cup and TOOK A DRINK.

And it was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Rainy day playdate

A depressingly big rain cloud has been parked over Asheville for the past week, resulting in Taylor and I parking ourselves on the couch and watching enough Dora the Explorer to make my head explode. So much in fact that last night I screamed, Swiper, NO SWIPING, to Chris as he was trying to sneak a taste of dinner off the stove. And if the sun doesn’t start showing itself soon, there’s a good chance I’ll be fluent in Spanish by the end of the weekend. Gracias, Dora.

So. Instead of hibernating and turning our brains into mushy-mush, this morning T and I headed down to South Asheville to hang out with my friend, Kristyn, and her daughter, Tanner. And with her other daughter, Campbell, now in kindergarten, we only had two itty-bitties to look after, allowing Kristyn and I to chat, eat chicken biscuits and overdose on coffee. Taylor, of course, had a blast with Tanner, and now that baby-T is getting bigger, they are able to play together a lot more.

It was a great way to spend the morning, not to mention that Kristyn graciously loaded my car full of enough winter-sweaters and pajamas to last until spring. Muchas Gracias, mi amiga.

Brusha brusha brusha

Today Chris and I took Taylor for her first dentist appointment. And because my girl doesn’t eat taffy or suck on sugar packets, not to mention she only has 11 ½ teeth right now, we knew it was going to be a quick in-and-out, get-to-know-you visit. Plus we had some questions on how we could develop a new brushing routine that DOESN’T involve her thrashing her body around the changing table and screaming bloody murder. Oh yeah, she puts on a show as soon as we try to scrub those pearly whites. So we had already braced ourselves for a Taylor-tantrum in the dentist office.

Here’s our little patient before we went back - Doesn’t this expression read, Wait a minute, This isn’t the ice cream store! YOU TRICKED ME AGAIN!

Luckily our dentist, Marks Family Dentistry, has a great kid-friendly waiting room for their little patients, complete with giant stuffed animals and lots and lots of books about teeth.

And once we got back in our room, the dentist and her assistant gave T this giant toothbrush to play with while they gave us some info and tips on how to make her brushing experience less traumatic. Hint, looks like we’re gonna have to buy a new, pink head for our Sonicare.

And for the actual check-up, they had me sit down on the chair with Taylor hugging me, and then I would lean her back into Dr Jennifer’s lap while she looked at her teeth. And even though the first couple times we leaned her back she REFUSED to open her mouth, our dentist worked her magic and was able to get in, look at her 11 ½ teeth and conclude that everything looked great. All without Taylor making a peep. No flopping like a fish or trying to bite any fingers off - She was such a good girl! To which she was rewarded with a Dora the Explorer sticker from Dr Jennifer, and a promise from me that we’d have after-nap ice cream treats this afternoon. I know, I know - Not the best cavity-free prize. Let’s just hope the Sonicare trick works tonight.

The eye of the tiger

Other than being an extremely cool place to live, Asheville boasts itself as being one of the more active communities in the Southeast. People of all ages kayak, hike, fish, run, bike, golf and do lots and lots of outside sports on a pretty regular basis. Our year-round mild weather supports it, as do all the crazy, healthy people who sponsor races and events throughout each season. It’s infectious. And after this slightly lazy Midwesterner moved here nearly seven years ago, I decided to take full-advantage of all this place has to offer. And I became a runner.

And let me take a quick pause here to mention that growing up I never really possessed any sort of athletic ability, other than standing under a basket or on the other side of a volleyball net and waving my extremely long arms in the air, or driving a golf ball a mile and then missing a two-foot putt. Thus the extent of my high school sporting career. Awkward Brooke, maybe blocking a few shots but mostly sitting on the bench getting belittled by our team’s fat, pathetic excuse of a volleyball coach. I’m talking to you, Darrell Ehlers. You will be happy to know that you are number one on my People To Give A Piece Of My Mind To list.

I digress. So. I move to Asheville, started running, had a baby and kept running, however now I was pushing another person up and down the killer hills that exist at EVERY intersection within city limits. But luckily all of my favorite friends here liked to run too, and we started a stroller club. Which allows us twice-weekly opportunities to share our hilarious child-rearing stories, catch-up on gossip and trim our backsides. Not to mention the frequent visits Taylor and I make to the gym, allowing me my daily one-hour break and excuse to run off any sort of anxiety that exists from raising a sassy toddler. Right now I feel like I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in.

And this weekend all my months and months of pushing Taylor up mountains was put to the test, with me running in 5k races both yesterday and today. I went into yesterday’s event without any real expectations, just wanting to finish the hilly-course in less than 30 minutes and not barf as I crossed the finish line. Here I am with my training partner right before the race, who was still a bit confused as to why we got her up so early:

So, in case you were wondering, I most definitely did NOT upchuck when the race ended. Instead, I ran across the finish line with enough adrenaline that I could have run two more races right then and there. If you’ve never experienced the feeling of finishing a race, go sign up. It’s an unbelievable high. I’m STILL flying. And not only did I finish it, but I KILLED it. I ran the 3.1 mile course in 26 minutes and 44 seconds, placing me 104th out of the 572 runners. Here I am making the final turn - Note the expression on the dude behind me, totally in shock of HOW FAST I AM:

And after I finished, kissed my husband and baby and stretched, I was able to cheer on my good friend, Chele, as she finished running the half-marathon race that was going on at the same time. And, for the third year in a row, I CRIED when she crossed the finish-line. She is a beautiful, running goddess and I am so very, very proud of her.

And this morning I got up and did it all again. Granted, this 5k course was a bit flatter and less hellish, but I pushed myself at the end and actually beat yesterday’s time, clocking in at 26 minutes and change. And, here I am, typing this up almost 12 hours after the run and I’m still riding my finish-line-high.

In your face, Darrell Ehlers.

Go Hawks!

Since Chris and I were both traveling last Saturday, we were excited to watch our delayed college football season start this afternoon. Especially when our first glimpse of our beloved Iowa squad was watching them wipe the floor with the Cyclones. And our littlest Hawkeye was pretty excited too.

Here are T and the Rubes doing the Hokey Pokey after the game:

GO HAWKS!

17 months old

Today my sweet potato punkin pie turns 17 months old. And as I sit down to record all the milestones Taylor hit during the last month, the first thing that comes to mind is how big she’s gotten. I’m around this girl all day, every day, and I can still recognize how much she’s grown in the last weeks. Chris was away from her for a little over a week, and when they were reunited, he just kept remarking on how grown-up she looks. Where’d our baby go?

And when I say big, I really mean BIG. Gigantic. And she’s getting heavy as all get-out. Almost to the point where I’m having a hard time carrying her all over the place. And, honey pie, it would really help Momma out if you would just HOLD ON TO ME. I’m serious. She’s never helped me out when I’ve carried her, and now it’s to the point that it’s hard to multi-task when carting her in and out of places. But at least I’m gaining some freakish strength in my left arm.

So she’s a big, happy toddler who is talking and jabbering ALL THE TIME. And she actually knows what she’s saying now, and is doing so well with learning new words and sounds. She wants her baby, she says, BAY-BEE. She wants a drink, she says, JOOS. She wants to harass her four-legged sister, she says, RUUUUUUBE. And while we were at my parents’ last week, she learned how to say, Thank you. Which is about the sweetest, cutest thing in the world, when you hand her a snack and she grabs it, looks at you with those big, blue eyes, smiles and yells, DANK-U! My Gomar would be so proud.

Unfortunately one of her favorite words is still NO. And some days that will be the ONLY WORD SHE SAYS. Taylor, would you like some juice? NO! Taylor, let’s go to the park. NO! Taylor, please don‘t pull Ruby‘s ears. NO! Taylor, you’re driving your Momma nuts. NO!

She’s also started to have some issues playing with other kids, noticeably marked by a handful of playdates that end with Taylor throwing her body on top of the other kid’s toys and screaming bloody-murder until she has physically tucked every single play-thing into her arms. Which is not only loud and hard to carry on a conversation over, but rather embarrassing. Who replaced my mild-mannered little girl with this toy-obsessed bully?

Oh, and another not-so-nice behavior that evolved this past month is the dreaded TEMPER TANTRUM. Thanks, Universe. I thought I had at least a few more months before I had to deal with the Terrible Twos. And trust me, I’m still in complete denial, and I’m pretty sure I’ll still partly blame all nasty outbursts on TEETHING until she turns 30. Because my loving, sweet baby girl would never flop around like a fish or wail at the top of her lungs unless she was in actual pain. RIGHT?

But, unfortunately, all her teeth are accounted for and we’re still averaging one to two melt-downs a day. And the other night, after she THREW her plate off her tray at dinner and sobbed through dessert, Chris and I had a sit down to discuss how we’re gonna manage these come-aparts. Because otherwise, Momma would be starting happy hour around two or three every afternoon. And the best solution we could think of is to just ignore her. Make a point of it, and actually turn our backs to her and pretend we’re not affected at all by her screams. And this morning, after she erupted because we wouldn’t let her feed scramble eggs to her baby - the horror! - we continued on with our usual breakfast conversation over her crying and flopping, and after about five minutes she calmed herself down and finished her food. And Chris looked over to her with a cheesy grin and said, Honey, Mom and Dad just won that battle. Get used to it.

So, yes, it’s been a challenging month. And I look back to when we first brought her home, and how hard we thought it was then. Come on! All I had to do was feed her a billion times a day, make sure she had a clean diaper and the rest was gravy. That was a cake walk compared to chasing her through an airport, calming outbursts and making sure she is constantly entertained. So, this is PARENTHOOD. And it’s HARD. Because what she’s learning from us now is going to shape her into the person she will always be. And now we’re ready for it, and we’re learning something new every day. And we’re LOVING it. And while everyday presents a new obstacle, and also tests my confidence in my mothering skills, it also holds a bazillion more moments where I just look at her and feel my heart surge with so much happiness and love. This is the best job ever.

Me versus the rocket

When I was younger, one of our favorite weekend-summer afternoon adventures was going to Moorehead Park. And since it was only about 20 minutes from the farm, we were pretty frequent visitors. Mom would usually pack a picnic lunch, we would take a short hike and then tire ourselves on the playground equipment. We were especially in love with the rocket. It was this gigantic, metal rocket that you could climb through and up to the top, and then slide down. And when I was home last week, Libba and I decided to introduce Taylor to the coolest playground apparatus of all time.

But the rocket wasn’t so cool this time around. In fact, it was down-right mean. And I know that equipment like this isn’t meant for giant adults to play in, but, come on, I wasn’t gonna let baby T go up solo.

You can’t see it in this photo, but right about here was when I hit my head so hard against the upper landing the entire rocket shook. And a stream of non-appropriate blogger language followed. Which resulted in a mother-daughter melt down and Taylor screaming, screaming, screaming until she got out of the rocket.

And after taking a moment to nurse my concussion, we realized that the only way to get down from the rocket is to take the slide.

Which, of course, soothed Taylor’s nerves. What can I say, my girl LOVES slides.

I, on the other hand, had a nasty headache and a bit of a complex against my old child hood friend.

Stupid rocket.

Back to city life

The Famous Amys traveling band returned to Asheville on Saturday evening, and it feels good to be home. Mostly because we now have Chris back with us. And if you could have seen the Taylor-Chris reunion in the Atlanta airport, you would have thought we were filming a scene for a Hallmark movie. As soon as T saw her Dad walking towards us, she went running through the concourse, jumped in his arms and bear-hugged him for about 15 minutes. Absolutely PRECIOUS.

And, once again, my daughter proved that she is, in fact, a jet-setting toddler. And while her airport-behavior was less than desirable, she was amazing on both flights. To which I rewarded her when we got back with her very own baby-stroller and new doll.

So, Lillian, I guess this means when you come visit us in Asheville, you won’t have to worry about the baby stealing your toys. Or maybe you will. But I promise to have lots and lots of iced animal cookies for you.

And now that I am completely unpacked, have our clothes clean and the cupboards stocked, I can sit back and reflect on how wonderful our trip to the farm really was. Being there for eight nights not only allowed me enough time to see everyone I wanted to see, but it let Taylor become completely comfortable with my parents and sister, and by the end she was stomping around the farm like she owned it.

Not only did she enjoy having more space than she’s ever had to run and play, but she also had first-time run ins with both my parents’ farm cats and, from the sidelines, the bulls in the pasture. Neither of which she was too hot about at first. But by the third day she was stampeding after the kitties, only to be disappointed that they would run madly away from her. Which I can’t blame them. They were half-wild to begin with, and then this gigantic toddler shows up, stomping after them, screaming KITTY! I’d run away too.

And I proved to have raised a city-baby when the first time I showed her the bulls and asked her, What’s the cow say? And she responded, Mwah. Mwah. My Dad almost fell over. And after some serious practice, we finally had our little urban girl yelling MOO to our livestock by the middle of the week.

We also got to see the beginning stages of my parents’ new pond, appropriately dubbed Taylor Lake. It was dug in July, and won’t be completely full until next spring, but just to see it rise a little bit every day was awesome. I can’t wait until next summer when it’s namesake will be able to swim off the dock, make sand castles on the beach and fish to her heart’s content from the shore.

And while the scenery was heavenly, the best part of the whole trip was being able to spend time with my family and friends. And watching Taylor interact with her Papa Don, Ya-Ya and Aunt Beeba made my heart smile.

It was a truly wonderful trip back home, marked somewhat by the tons and tons of pictures my sister and I took. Which, no surprise, the majority of the images were of Taylor. But, come on. If your daughter-granddaughter-niece was THIS cute, you’d take lots of pictures of her too.

Bloggerpalooza 2009 from the sidelines

Last night Libba and I hosted a blogger reunion of sorts at the farm, and if you want to look at some of the wonderful moments my super-talented sister captured at the party, click here.

Wonder where I am in these? Oh, I was following my daughter around trying to prevent nuclear melt-downs all night. Because Taylor was being a bit, how shall I describe it, NAUGHTY. Enough to the point that Meghann's two and a half year old, Lilly, looked right at me and said, I'm NOT playing with that baby anymore. And I was all, Really, Lilly, I don't blame you. Because everything that Lilly touched - EVERYTHING! - Taylor would run over to, yell NO! and grab away from her. Even if it was Lilly's toy. Totally unacceptable behavior for a margarita party.

So while everyone else was strolling down memory lane and giving baby Luke squeezes, I was soothing emotional come-aparts of one very cranky toddler.

But at the end of the night, Taylor and Lilly decided to let bygones be bygones, and Miss Lilly even helped me give T her bath. Super sweet. And while I wish I could have spent more time chatting with all of you bloggers, thanks for showing your beautiful faces and sharing some tequila. I can't wait to see you all again next year!

We are fam-ah-lee

My sister and her absolutely gorgeous engagement ring arrived from Birmingham today. Which means that all pictures from here on out are going to be completely amazing and I'm going to be drinking enough wine to fuel a small empire. And, of course, Taylor's gonna get some super special attention from her godmother.