Bye Bye Baby...

So Tegan is walking. Like, really walking. Not just the drunken stumble, the real thing. As a result my time spent indoors at the computer has greatly decreased. Ironically, the potential blog material is infinitely increasing with every step. Like learning how to step off curbs (or the lack there of), and screaming with delight when she is "set loose" in an open area, and her sudden complete disapproval with being held...EVER.

So until I get my sea legs with this whole walking business, my blog writing days are fewer are further between. I suppose this is my warm welcome to having a toddler. "Hi there! Welcome to the mother of a 1 year old club, please leave your last glimmer of free time and those ten pounds of left over baby weight at the door."

The baby weight reference is my desperate attempt at optimism about my increase in chasing my kid down. I see now why they make leashes for children. I have no plans to get one (don't quote me on this) but I can see where sheer desperation may lead to such shocking devices. And I mean, she's only gonna get faster and more ninja like,  and I'm only gonna get older and slower.

While I may be totally terrified by this walking thing, Tegan doesn't have a fear in the world, and she's the one who should! It's her bones and skin on the line! I suppose she hasn't learned fear yet. Perhaps walking might lead the start of this tough lesson. For now, she just goes in feet first (pun intended) with all she's got and never look back...literally, all I ever see is her ass.

(on the move)

A Little Girls Decent Into (Delicious) Madness or More Simply Put, Cake Drunk.

There are certain times when a photograph truly says  more than words. I believe this to be one of those times. Enjoy.

A seemingly sweet girl previously untanted by confectionary delights

 hmmm...

Desperately attempting to practice restraint

 Perhaps just one more taste

Something along the lines of a Homer Simpson grone

I don't want you to see me like this, Mother.

Look at all the pretty colors

or

The snozberries taste like snozberries

The insaciable sweet tooth takes hold

!!!

HAZZAH!

...What's just happened?

31,556,926...and Counting

Tomorrow Tegan will be one. We made it a year. A whole year. 365 days. 8765.8 hours. 31,556,926 seconds, and this is truly something to celebrate. Not only is it Tegan's first Birthday, but there is also an undeniable sense of accomplishment for myself and Josh. Not only is she still in one piece, but stitch free and only a few memorable injuries. For a kid that would rather demonstrate her yoga moves on a chair than sit on it, this feels like a huge success.

Raising children is hard, and parents who says its not are either lying or probably not doing all they should be. It truly is the absolute, without a doubt, hardest thing I have ever done. Makes managing a classroom look like a vacation. It's exhausting mentally, physically, financially and socially. So then why do it?

A friend of mine recently made a joke about not getting the pay off of having a child. Diapers, crying, lack of sleep, money, being stuck at home, and maybe I will agree with him a bit when Tegan is 14 and only communicates with me via door slamming, but right now I can't see a downside. She's fucking hilarious for one, and she's smart, and Innocent, and trusting and a reminder of what we were all like before we got our hearts broken or watched too much news or were under appreciated or hurt or felt fear. Tegan helps me remember that these things don't have to be what life's all about. And if that doesn't sell you on the deal, have a child that loves you more than anything else in the world just give you a hug.

So to me there is no question that while the last year has been crazy and sometime (okay, a lot of the time) stressful, seeing her grow up into a sassy little lady is way cooler than going out with the cool kids. To each their own. And this is mine.

(Just being cute)

A letter to my bigger than "little" girl.

Tegan,

     I hope you've made it this far reading all these blogs. I realize at this point there is a very good chance you have completely disowned me as your mother for comparing you to the likes of mental cases, animals and transients. But assuming I raised you well, you've probably got a good bit of humor and sarcasm in your blood, Oh, and I promise to let you decide what photographs are shared with your boyfriend, although I doubt I can say the same for your dad. 

     Tomorrow is your first birthday, and I must say that I am just as excited about your birthday as I am for having kept you in one piece for 365 days. When you have a child you will understand why that feels like such an accomplishment. Especially if your children are as rowdy and full of energy and curiosity as you are. 

     In the first year of your life you put in a lot of work! You will meet 1 walking, and talking (kind of) and having a very strong will and little to no hair on your head. It's true and we love you any way. You are fun, and smart, and completely fearless. Anywhere we take you people comment on how beautiful you are and how aware of the world you seem to be. You are absolutely amazing. 

Thank you for reminding me everyday that there is still goodness in the world. Stay sweet. Stay happy. And always stay true to what you believe regardless of what others may think (unless the other person is your mother. Kidding.) 

Happy Birthday baby girl!

I love you to the moon. 

A&E Series In The Making or Baby Genius?

Tegan has always exhibited some rather interesting behaviors when playing. I'm sure all kids do. Actually, I'm pretty sure most things that kids do are peculiar and certainly hilarious to say the least.  One of the first things I noticed she would always do with her toys was what I referred to as her "leave no man behind" mentality.

Whenever she would be playing and want to go from one part of the house to another, she felt like everything needed to come with her. Not just a favorite, but anything she was around. So she'd sit there and crawl half as inch grab a few toys, move them, crawl another few inches, realize she dropped Panda, 2 crawls back, turn around, grab him, drop the shoelace, go back again, decide she needs the block to come too, back 3 steps again, now grab your partner, spin to the left and dosey doe...you get the point.

These days she's all about being outside. Pushing her little cart around. With a balloon tied to it. Filled with "stuff." Does this sound strangely familiar?  You may recognize this character from such places as a bus stop on Apache Blvd, or a park bench in Downtown Phoenix. She looks like a crazy bag lady! Roaming around the yard collecting leaves and rocks and  bird heads (kidding) to put in her cart. While the resemblance to a transient can be unsettling at times, mostly I'm impressed with how systematic her "collecting" is. Like a little miniature archaeologist (or crazy person). The verdict is still out.

So she goes to an area, has a seat on the ground next to her cart and begins. She picks it up or off or whatever and then looks at it for a while. If it passes first inspection than it goes to level two inspection in which it is placed in the mouth. If it tastes...."something" enough, then it's a keeper and goes to the cart, where she then puts it in and takes it out 37 (okay, maybe 36) times before deciding it's in the right place. On to the next spot. A well oiled machine, this process.

Maybe these things are all normal. Maybe your kid does it too. I have no idea. I've never done this before. So until I start finding boxes under her bed that contain cat hair she's collected and rolled into perfect little balls, I'm not gonna worry too much.

(My Little Transient)

(Inspection Process)

Turns Out They Do Come With A "How To" Manual! (Kind of)

If I had a dollar for every time I heard my mom, or boss, or that old lady at Wal-mart say "we never had that when I had my kids"  I probably wouldn't be foreclosing on my house. Calm down, mom, I'm not complaining. It's the truth. Disposable diapers didn't exist let alone fancy car seats, or video monitors or Yo Gabba Gabba. And honestly, I think I could probably do without most of this.

What I couldn't do without is all the information. EVERYTHING has been researched and studied and researched again, and found to be previously incorrect, and corrected and put in a book, or on a blog, or a website, or answered by some lady named "Bobbysmommy33" on Yahoo Answers.

My current problem is that I'm at the end of my book. I had the pregnancy books and the first years books and now what? Is there a year two manual? I mean, there better be? The nerd in me needs another book! I have no idea what to do with the "second years" Tegan! When will she form sentences, and how do I deal with big girl beds and feces throwing (See! I can't even seem to remember if I'm raising a one year old human or a chimp!)

I mean, Josh and I had pretty much zero experience with kids prior to Miss Tegan...I mean, really zero. I can't actually recall having changed a diaper...ever. And while I may write like I'm some bad ass, go with the flow kind of mom (which I am), I have to be educated on anything I take on. Even if I decide what I read was total garbage. So I need the books.

While I do realize the Internet and other forms of 21st century research will still exist in 8 days, and my ability to google "how many wet diapers should a 12 month old that's weaning but drinks water have" and get an exact answer, I liked the comfort that came with the monthly manual. The feeling of "so that is normal...huh...good to know" when I would read the chapter for her point in development. Or the even better feeling of "I knew my kid was going to be a fucking genius" when she had reached milestones 2 and 3 chapters ahead.

So maybe I can't get a month-by-month breakdown of what (not so) Baby Bird is likely to unveil next.  Maybe that's okay. This last year of parenting has really lead to me feeling like I know Tegan, and that I can handle anything she can throw at me. Perhaps I can even handle it on instinct. And just maybe I'll decide I don't need a book at all. I mean, how much harder can a one year old really be?

(Can someone tell me which chapter covers desk climbing?)

I'm Not Asking For The Cover of Time Magazine!

Everyone that has children wants them to do great things. Not just for the obvious reason of needing a retirement plan since that whole social security thing is looking grim at best, but because you love them insanely and you want them to be happy and educated and well rounded and employed. We are no different with Tegan. We want (and know) that she will be amazing at...something.

It's that something, that question mark that leads many parents (okay, at least Josh and I) to turn every little thing Tegan does into a sign of her feature talents. She liked water as a baby...SWIMMER! Huge fan of books...WRITER! Rolling and throwing the ball...ATHLETE! And we're all familiar with the cat thing which of course points to VET! Then we remind ourselves that she is also good at things like shitting her pants and making fart sounds with her mouth, and neither of us seem to jump at possible careers that list those as requirements. Although we are happily accepting suggestions.

So of course when Tegan starting playing with crayons and paper the other day, the artist in me couldn't help but go bananas at the thought of a little artist. She seemed to really enjoy herself, and did surprisingly well at hold the crayons and understanding line and form and balance (kidding). She does enjoy it though..a lot I'd say.

(My Little Ar-teeeest)

But I know this might or might not mean anything. Yes, children naturally gravitate towards certain things, and sure, interests they have as they get older impact what the choose as work, but now is far too early to really know anything.  I mean, I should probably wait for her to um, I don't know, walk, and say more than 5 words before my imagination maps out her whole life. (I solemnly swear to not be a parent that pushes their kid into a certain career. Even if that career is as a highly payed and well respected artist that is nationally recognized, and lives in a super awesome loft/studio in NY...Scout's Honor.)

Because right now, in reality, toys are for playing, Books are pretty to look at, and crayons, while they do make really pretty marks, are often times still best for eating.  

(I mean, who wouldn't? They smell so good!)

Animals and Politics

Tegan loves to be around other kids. Loves it. She watches other kids when we are out, and always trying to go to them if she can. I love that she's social. I mean, who wants their kid to be like Ally Sheedy from Breakfast Club or that creepy guy from The Burbs? No thanks. Lately, I'm beginning to wonder if their aren't some parents out there trying to raise socially defective kids.

I have the attitude that babies are babies, and are often more like little animals (which they are) than little people. Sometimes they hit, or take a toy, or get a toy taken. I see this as normal. Sort of baby survival of the fittest. I like to handle this by not handling it. Obviously, I will tell Tegan to be nice if she hits a kid or something like that, but she doesn't know how to be soft handed or how to say "listen asshole, that was my shape sorter and I want it back." She's a fucking baby.

These parents that hover over their kids and carry them off the second anything gets less than perfect are creating cry babies. The kind of kids that make it so that other kids can't play tag anymore. We don't need to let them brake bottles over each others heads (pun intended), but we should let them experience some physical interaction before they're 37.

This seems to be how most people parent. Particularly at my story group each week. Which is why I am BEYOND thrilled when Tegan gets to play with a baby who's parents are paranoid nut bags. It's so nice to just let kids play, and not spend the whole time burning an ulcer into your guts because the other parents are raising the boy in the bubble or forgot they're not chaperoning a Junior High dance.

When my friend called and said she wanted to bring her little girl over for the first time I was thrilled. She is the opposite of the parents mentioned above. In fact, she was cooler about the girls getting crazy than I was. This was particularly true when a whole container of puffs spilled, and my obsession for tidiness (understatement) couldn't refrain from kicking in.

So Tegan spent the evening playing with her new bff Vienna. And mom had a reason to put on real clothes and speak like a college graduate. Win. Win. Sometimes they cried, and sometimes fingers went into eyeballs and it wasn't always perfect, but everyone survived...and it was a lot of God damn fun.

(friends)