Monthly Archives: June 2007

Doubletake!

Imagine my surprise (and sheer delight!) in retrieving from my foyer yesterday the latest copy of Adoptive Families magazine. It had fallen from the mail slot to the floor face up, and peeked out among other much less intriguing mail.

As I bent to pick it up, I immediately recognized the beautiful girl adorning the front cover. I thought to myself, “That looks like Ruby!” Lo and behold, it is. That sweet face belongs to Ruby of Rubysoho in my blogroll. Fantastic, Aaryn! (Ruby’s hysterical, snarky, creative, beautiful mother, for those of you who haven’t clicked your way over there yet.)

Then, I begin to flip through … and I quickly see a subhead I know I’ve read before. And then I look at the photo accompanying the piece and it’s super-talented Dawn of This Woman’s Work, also in my blogroll! I’d immediately recognized the subhead because I’ve read the piece through Dawn’s links to her other writing. Maybe it’s the editor in me who notices heads and subheads and such details — I don’t know. But AF is reprinting her excellent piece.

Brava to both of you! It’s very exciting to see two women (and their daughters) that I “know” and read regularly — front and center in one issue.

Yeah, I’m thinking this means my blogroll rocks.  Clearly I’ve got good taste!

PS: An unrelated note. Although there’s been a lull around here recently, that’s about to end. Oh, I’ve got tons to write about — hence the half-composed drafts in the hopper, but it’s time that has been an issue. Well, things are changing ’round here as I’m about to gain both more writing time and more Maeve time. Couldn’t be happier about that lucky turn of events. Details to follow. But stick around. There’s about to be more of mamagigi than ever. (Yeah, that’s supposed to be a good thing, folks.)

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Filed under Adoption, Children, Family, For fun, Maeve, mamagigi, Parenting, Writing

Diaper Swiper

As Maeve inches closer to turning two, recent months have had her proudly trying to dress herself. Although this means two feet in one pantleg, or her arm out the shirt hole made for her head, it’s exciting to see her so determined.

And when she’s successful? She’s so proud, much like her mama.

So weeks of late, she’s taken to greeting me in her crib in the morning, sans pajama bottoms. She’s sitting up, proudly boasting as I open the door, “Pant off mommeee! Pant off! May pant off!  (She hasn’t yet mastered the “v” part of her name.) She’s so pleased with her herself. Cute, indeed.

At first.

Since she so easily mastered Project Pant Removal, my little overachiever then took to using the 45 minutes or so she sits happily in her crib each morning while I rush to get ready for work to tackle new, more lofty goals.

In addition to perusing the books we leave in the foot of her bed, sing-songing ABCs or Baa, Baa Black Sheep, she’s now graduated to Project Freak Mommy Out, which translates loosely into Hey, What’s This Diaper Thingie Doing Here? Cool! Extracurricular Crib Activity!

After nearly two straight weeks of finding beautiful but bare cheekies, dirty diapers strewn aside and fresh bedding-turned-dirty laundry, Thomas and I were about to dig out the duct tape in desperation. (Trust me when I say that my morning routine already is ugly enough without an appearance by the Diaper Swiper. Just getting her and I out the door, in some presentable and quasi-organized manner, and remotely close to on-time, is a plan that’s seriously paper-thin.) 

But then his brilliant Professor Sister said matter-of-factly, “Just put the diaper on backwards.” (OK, so you don’t have to be a professor to think of that one, it’s just that she actually is a university prof and her idea turned out to be fantabulous. Obvious, yes, but genius nonetheless.)

Not just any old genius, but the I’m-hearing-harps-and-opera-sopranos-kind-of-genius.

For a couple weeks anyway.

Ya see, my little genius has now mastered Removing The Reverse Diaper. She trumped her aunt, the professor. Now, our morning conversations go something more like this:

Me: Good morning, Maeve! How are you? Did you sleep well, love?

Maeve: Mor-nig mommee! May dipah, what happen? (She shrugs, then smiles wide with pride.)

Rrrrrright.

Suggestions, anyone?

Signed,
Diaperless in Jersey

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Filed under Adoption, Children, Diapers, Maeve, Parenting

Look, Maeve! It’s a-maize-ing!

Maeve loves corn and peas. I mean really loves them. In fact, I’d say it rivals my unhealthy peanut-butter-cup obsession. (Well, except for the “unhealthy” part.)  But I digress. (Already.)  We realized after barbequeing recently that she’d never actually seen corn on the cob, nevermind eat it that way.

Alas, this light-bulb moment didn’t come until we saw the look on her face when The Cob And Its Corn were presented for dinner along with the usual suspects. Unfortunately, we couldn’t grab the camera fast enough to document her total look of simultaneous confusion, horror and intrigue. You’ll simply have to trust that this Most-Hysterical Face was priceless.

Beg your pardon? Oh no, no, dear Maize-Lovers, don’t fret! Some other juicy kernels of her corn-cob encounter were successfully captured for posterity. In fact, many seemed to pop right off the camera’s view screen! One could even argue the results are a veritable cornucopia of priceless moments. Yes, a photographic garden ripe for the picking.

Alright, alright, at the risk of having already jumped the corniness shark, I’ll get to the point, my little niblets. I’ll get the the photographic point.

Ahem, Ahem. (Clears throat, and in a husk-y announcer’s voice says …)

Maeve Very, Very Seriously Watching Daddy Eat Beloved, Cherished Corn
From The Bumpy Yellow Thing,
Then Trying To Master His Precise And Decades’-Old
Spin-Nibble, Spin-Nibble, Spin-Nibble Move.

 
Maeve, meet Corn’s Cob.  Corn’s Cob? Maeve.
I trust you’ll forge a sweet and juicy friendship.

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Filed under Adoption, Children, Family, Firsts, Maeve, Parenting

My baby’s all girl

bubblegirl.jpg

During a recent weekend visit to Nan and Pop’s lakeside cottage in Pennsylvania country, I saw just how much the little one we used to bottle-feed every three hours ’round-the-clock is, well, not so little anymore:

She held and “petted” a caterpillar (or two or three; good-goddess, I stopped counting) after seeing her six-year-old cousin Cleo do it, and this mama stood back and held her breath in fear she would hold them a little too tightly. (Silly mama, no need to worry. She’s quite the gifted caterpillar-holder if I do say so myself. No squishing to be had.)

Maeve greeted her Nan (Tom’s mom) with “Hi Cuuuu-teeeee!” every time she saw her and I have no idea where that came from. Actually, now that I think about it, in addition to “grandma,” she calls my mom “Cookie,” which actually is my mom’s nickname for her. Maybe Maeve’s just repeating to them what she hears them say to her, convinced these must be their names. Ah, to be so loved! 

One morning she walked with her daddy down to the lake and watched her cousins, and aunt and uncle go out canoeing. I took the solitary moments to relax in the shade back at the cottage, listening to the birds, admiring the flowers and watching the trickle of a gentle fountain. When I finally saw them in the distance, trekking up the long driveway toward the cottage, she was riding on daddy’s shoulders.

The girl is a bubble-blowing powerhouse. Couldn’t. Get. Enough. As in, each evening we had to distract her and hide “The Bubbus!!” when it was time to head inside.

Maeve kicked a soccer ball with her Pop (Tom’s dad), back and forth, back and forth. (Well, he kicked forth and she kicked as close to back as her little legs and 22-month-old coordination would allow.) At some point during the weekend, I was passing through a room and overheard Tom saying something about the next Mia Hamm. Rrright. No pressure, Maeve.

While at the beach a few afternoons, she walked right into the water, afraid of so little and open to so much. Loved to be twirled and spun, floated like a fish, and lifted high into the air only to come gently splashing to the water below. Deep belly laughs. Random swallows of lakewater were no deterrent from such summer splendor. During her first few moments in the lake she put out her arms and belly-flopped forward — something she’s taken to at home, onto the floor, a pillow, or a blanket she piles into something resembling a landing zone. Although I saw it coming and was mere inches away, I couldn’t prevent her face from going under a bit. By the look on her waterlogged face, she’d clearly mistaken the smooth lakewaters for a soft — yet still firm — landing-pad friend.

Maeve fetched countless buckets of water from the lake for her castle-crafting cousins Cleo and Owen. Although the buckets lost about one-third their water by the time she made her way through the sand up to the castle workstation, she was so pleased to be part of the project. As she traversed the beach to her destination, she’d proudly singsong, “Watah Cleooooo.”

At one point, Tom was asleep in our family cabana and from the water she said — in a voice far too quiet for him to ever hear her some 50 feet away — “Wake up daddy, up! Watah! Watya doin’? Watah!”

Maeve took way too easily to Cleooooo’s pink butterfly purse, wallet and pink phone. (We are in so much trouble.)

Oh — and most shocking to this mama-in-denial: She rode (with a helpful push) on a tricycle for the very first time.

Yes, a tricycle, people.

(What? Don’t scoff! This may not sound like a big deal, but need I remind you that this apparatus is designed for childhood mobility independent of parental influence? Next she’ll be asking for my car keys. And 20 bucks. And there had better not be any eye-rolling or lip-smacking.)

Is there a Pause Button on her somewhere that I’ve managed to miss? I ask all of you, surely much wiser than me in this Thing Called Parenting:

Where did my baby go?

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Filed under Adoption, Children, Family, Growing up, Maeve, Parenting