A Rolling Stone

It's Monday morning after a weekend trip to Alabama and you are sleeping soundly. For the past few days you played your heart out while Poppa and I cut trees, hauled brush and pulled fallen trees out of a fish pond that may not have a lot of fish but sprouts algae like you wouldn't believe. It was stinky business but good, honest work and I'm feeling a little sore all over today. You are just worn out from playing with a host of indefatigable playmates (Mur, Nona, Grandaddy, Charles, Alyssa, Grandmomma, Jane, Lyn, Trent and Owen).

The pictures above are a smattering of the activities you enjoyed while at Mur's Resort and Fun House. There is some evidence that you pitched in to help rake some leaves but for the most part you colored, practiced walking up steps, and played gorilla. You were also not the least bit interested in watching your television debut Saturday night on HGTV; you went to the back bedroom and watched the fish screen-saver on the computer monitor. It's nice to see that fame has not gone to your head.

This month is one marked by travel every weekend. Last weekend (photo-less, how did that happen?!) we were in Nashville visiting a whole host of friends and watching Poppa play a game of Aussie Rules Football. We didn't make any trips to the ER so by all accounts the weekend was a raging success. You got to visit with your buddies Kate and Amanda and took up a new obsession with pushing a stroller everywhere you go.

In just five days you board your first aircraft for a trip across the country to San Francisco. Your Poppa and I are so, so looking forward to this long vacation and traveling with you. Again, you'll have plenty of entertainment--Aunt Anna is so excited to play with you -- and you'll attend your second wedding. We're hoping the time change doesn't totally wreck your sleep schedule and we apologize to anyone who may lose five or six hours of sleep each night (that would be you Anna and Parker...rest up now!).

In all, you're still the great little traveler that you've been since you were born. I am amazed at the ways you'll entertain yourself on the highway. You talk constantly (I am sure this will be annoying in a few years but now I just love it) read books, eat Clementines (a new favorite, even when I judge that they are completely dry and tasteless), loop Mardi Gras beads around your toes and sing songs with us. I'm not sure how many states you've visited (I think it's about 10 or 11) but you've seen quite a bit of this country in less than a year and a half with no sign of slowing down. Next stop, Hartsfield Jackson Airport!

Dinner

This may be the shortest blog entry yet.
Last night for dinner you ate smoked herring and pickled okra. Wow.

DIY

There are TV channels and websites devoted entirely to the DIY (do it yourself) lifestyle. In a few minutes you can learn how to make a fabulous holiday centerpiece or refinish old cabinets. There is DIY backyard chicken coop building (something we're getting ready to learn a thing or two about...shhh...don't tell Momma G) and DIY plumbing.

You are a huge devotee of DIY feeding and, increasingly, DIY dressing. The dressing bit has me tickled, the feeding less so. Somedays you feel like wearing panties, a bikini top and a fly pair of new shoes. Somedays you don't. That's fine with me.

I've learned never to dress you before the first bowl of oatmeal. Unless it's one of those days that bikini top and diapers is all you want to wear.

Into the Great Wide Open

One of the highlights of our trip to Ocean Springs was the trip we took to Folsom, LA and the Global Wildlife Center. Here are a few photos from the visit:

When heading on safari, one must dress for the part. Thanks to Sugar Bo (that's Aunt Rachael to me) for the elephant dress.

You've got your grandparents all in a row and pretty securely wrapped around your finger. That's your friend Jaqueline making sure you're well hydrated.

Feeding a giraffe out of my hand was pretty cool--you were only slightly concerned.

Watusi cattle can do cool tricks with their tongues.

You make sure we don't miss a thing. I have a death grip on your thigh.

I think I know the feeling my friend...

Hong Kong Delivers! We've got photos.

A leftover birthday picture..this was your third cake for the celebration over the fourth of July at the lakehouse. You're making your now famous surprised face.

Nothing's more surprising than another road trip!

You've become quite a happy traveler.

Jackson, your friend from Silver Spring, was just a few days old when you last saw him and it turns out he's a lot of fun--and very mobile! We enjoyed his visit, although very brief, this week and wish we lived a little closer.

You're a really great helper. Especially on plumbing projects.

Things were okay until we hit the interstate...
To avoid calls to DFACS please note that the car was stationary and Poppa's hands were on you at all times.

Another beloved hat!

I Feel Your Pain

Last night, in a fit of domesticity, I was zooming around the house trying to get the garbage and recycling to the curb before you opened the drawer with the vitamins in it again or managed to crack another bottle in the pantry. As I lifted the recycling bin a large cement block fell and cracked me on the shin, taking a nice chunk of my skin off as it slid down and eventually hit the deck.

I walked into the kitchen where you were "helping" with dinner and got your Poppa's attention by saying "that's really gonna hurt." You took one look at my leg and burst into tears. I was not writhing in pain, I was not screaming I was simply standing there waiting for the medics to arrive with an amazing degree of self-restraint (I thought).

The minute you started to cry I forgot all about the leg. You knew something was wrong with your Momma and it upset you and all I wanted to do was assure you that everything was okay. I swooped you up, hobbled to the closest chair and just repeated over and over again that "Momma was okay." We also talked about bumps, something you know a thing or two about and you quickly picked up a new sign: bumping your palm against your forehead while saying "bum...bum" which is, of course, totally adorable. Things calmed down and you eagerly supervised the wound clean-up, watching as your Poppa poured peroxide and tea tree oil over the gashes. Convinced that the leg would heal just fine, you turned your attention to your dinner of peas and mango.

To feel the pain of others seems like such a grown up thing. While I'm sorry the sight of my bloodied leg upset you, it melts my heart that you were worried enough to be upset by the vision. In a strange way, it also makes it a little easier to mother you, a child who seems bent on keeping a permanent black and blue spot on her forehead. I feel your pain at least five or six times a day as you plop down too hard, get your head stuck under the table or fall off your little truck. I think my stomach might be permanently lodged in my throat; it's odd to think that you might know that feeling.

And empathy is perhaps one of the character traits I would most like to instill in you. Of course I don't want you to harbor the pain of others as your own, but recognizing and attempting to respond to the pain of others makes you fully, wholly human in the best way. And there's no better way to instill that value in you than to see it reflected in the lives of those you spend the most time around. Thanks for the reminder.

Did I mention that the power cord I bought for my computer was being shipped from Hong Kong? There are now an overwhelming number of pictures on my camera and stories to tell about visits with relatives and friends. We'll just have to spend an afternoon loading them once that trans-oceanic power cord arrives. You are now playing with my lipstick and making long distance phone calls (trans-oceanic, perhaps?) on my cell phone. I love you.

Unplugged

For the past few weeks we've been living in technology limbo-land. The plug to the computer broke and because we've committed to another year of buy-nothing-new I couldn't walk into the Apple Store and pick up a new one off the shelf. I also couldn't walk in and buy a new iPhone although roughly 60 percent of Atlantans were doing just that the day we went in to have the problem diagnosed. Sadly, you weren't impressed with the ultra-cool atmosphere, started screaming and got us "thrown out" of the store. The hipster Apple employee suggested politely that we move because he was trying to teach a group of nouveau Apple lovers how to use their spanking new phones. Baby, PCs are not an option for us, please lay off the yelling at the Apple store.

So, here we are on the back porch on Mama G's computer without access to the trillions of amazingly cute pictures I took of you when we went to the wildlife conservation center in Louisiana last week. Giraffes and camels and Watusi cattle...oh my! I also cannot upload video from our first trip to the aquarium; you would have thought it was Halloween with all the "BOO! BOO!" exclamations. Your father, who taught you that fish say "boo", is exceedingly proud.

Here are few updates, without any visual aids which I will add as soon as the ebay purchased power cord arrives:
1) You are officially a walker. You now prefer this method of transportation to crawling. This development has only increased the number of bumps and bruises on your forehead but you seem to think it's worth it.
2) You pick up new signs at an alarmingly fast rate. Our favorites are gorilla (beating your chest and saying ahhhh) cat (whiskers on the face) and night-night (blowing a kiss). I'd say you have a signing of vocabulary of over 30 words, it's amazingly cool to watch you talk.
3) You have six teeth and you know how to use them. Nona is concerned that we will have problems getting into preschool if you're still biting by then. We must work on this.
4) You had baby herpes and you handled it like a champ. I got such a kick walking around telling people you had "the herpes." The YMCA didn't think it was so funny. Honestly, it's a very common, temporary and relatively minor sickness, also known as Roseola, and now a distant memory.

The learning curve is still steep and everyday I'm amazed watching you soak in the world. I love your determination, your explosive joy and your willingness to entertain yourself and the grown-ups. For the past hour or so you've been hanging out on the porch with me toddling around (with no head-bangers) and slowly pouring water out of your sippy cup. If that's all you need to be happy, we're in good shape.