I used to love flying. Since I didn't take my first flight until I was in high school, it had, by that time, come to represent something exotic and elusive, some kind of fancy big-city thing that other people did, but not me. It says something about the amount of flying I've done since then that I can't remember exactly what my first flight was--it was either to Colorado with my family for vacation, or to San Diego for a church convention. What I do remember is the feeling that most of us have experienced: the slow, plodding movements of the airplane as it taxies to the runway, followed by that unbelievable, rattling, rushing burst of speed. And then the moment of lift-off, a sudden, nearly imperceptable lightness of being.

Following that first flight (whenever it was), I was hooked. I wanted to fly everywhere, whether I needed to be there or not. I even remember researching the role of an air courier, but nothing came of that. I was, alas, on a college student's budget, so my dreams of ceaseless flight were not to be. But I made up in distance what I lacked in frequency, flying to Honduras, the Philippines (oh, the agony of the trans-Pacific flight!), England (twice) and California (twice, too) during my college years. And after college I flew a few times as well--to Seattle, from San Francisco (days after September 11), to and from Ireland, New York City.

I remember details from flights. My first big trip, over to England to visit Jeff when he was studying in Oxford, had the drama of a passenger fainting mid-flight. The "whump" of his belly-flop onto the carpeted aisle woke me from an already troubled sleep. He was fine, but the wheeled out the O2 tanks, just in case. I didn't sleep after that.

The flight to the Philippines was epic. Chicago to San Francisco, then San Fran to Taipei, then finally to Manila. Over 20 hours total. At one point I bargained with my seatmates in the five-seat center-plane section to allow me to lay on the floor under our seats. "You can put your feet on me. I don't care. I just need to lay prone," I begged. It didn't help much, since I was just a little too tall. I could choose which portion of my anatomy would be whacked by the passing drinks cart: top of my head, or my feet.

I spent much of the return flight devouring an enormous package of dried mango I'd purchased in the airport in Manila, not really thinking about the effects such mass quantities of dried fruit would have on my digestive system. Fortunately, I wasn't bothered by the return of the mango until we landed.

The flight from San Francisco on September 17, 2001 was strange. We had originally been scheduled to fly out on the 14th; fortunately my cousin Lisa and her husband, who lived in the Bay Area, were kind enough to let us stay with them when our free trip accomodations ran out. When our flight was finally rescheduled, the line to get through security wrapped around the check-in area. But no one cared. Everyone was respectful, quiet, reverent. People made eye contact and smiled just a little. On the airplane, the captain made a brief announcement before taking off, encouraging us to turn to our seatmates and introduce ourselves. I felt like I was in church.

No matter the flight or the destination, I loved the whole experience. I loved checking my bags, scanning my carry-ons, buying airport coffee, walking through the terminals. I loved the little plastic cups for beverages, the in-flight movies, even the in-flight magazines. I especially loved when we touched down, knowing I had covered such distance and was now someplace new, where no one knew me. An adventure awaited.

But somewhere along the line, that changed. Really, it's not that vague--I know exactly when it changed.

The first flight I took after I found out I was going to be a mother was in March 2006, from Columbus to Des Moines to visit my family in Iowa. I was almost seven months pregnant, just large enough to be uncomfortable, but not quite big enough that people knew I was gestating. Something was different on that flight. All the ingredients were in place: the bustling terminal, the airport bookstores, the jostling acceleration of the plane. But something else was in place, too: Charlotte.

I suddenly became one of those sitcom characters who grip the armrests, close their eyes, and wish away the flop sweat. My heart began racing when the plane began taxiing, and didn't stop until I deplaned. Charlotte flipped and swirled and kicked in my belly, and I had Braxton-Hicks contractions more fierce and un-ignorable than before. On the flight back, I swear she rotated from head-up to -down. Something dramatic happened, anyway--and boy, was I uncomfortable.

Then there was the first flight after Charlotte made her out-of-womb debut, again from Columbus to Des Moines, this time for my cousin's wedding. Jeff and I were the classic fumbling new parents. Underestimating the time it would take us to get ourselves plus a suckling infant into the car, to the airport, parked, checked in, and through security, we managed to miss our plane. That caused us to miss our connection in Chicago, putting us in Des Moines hours after our original arrival time. Charlotte didn't care, and was fantastic the entire flight. She was more than happy to nurse on every take-off and landing ("What's this? A nipple? Again? Why, certainly!") to help pop her ears. But I was a mess. Every little bump and shift of the plane convinced me we were doomed. We landed safely, but I had a tension headache for days.

Just weeks after that flight, I came home from school and listened to a strange-sounding message on the answering machine from my mom. She wanted me to call her at work. Before I did that, I went upstairs to change clothes, telling Jeff how weird it was that my mom wanted me to call her at the library in the middle of the day. Jeff told me on the stairs: "Carrie called this morning. Leslie Van Hemert died last night."

When my friend Leslie Van Hemert O'Bannon died in a small plane crash in Indiana, she left behind her husband, John, and their baby daughter, Ellie. That horrible, tragic accident cemented my perhaps fears: flying was dangerous. And now that I had someone other than myself to live for, someone counting on me for so many reasons, I wasn't interested in any danger.

Tomorrow I fly to Kansas to visit the university--by myself. I have never slept a night without Charlotte within a fifteen-foot radius. The longest I have been apart from her is probably eight hours. It goes without saying that I am nervous and worried. When I put Charlotte to bed tonight, I spent several minutes just rocking her after she fell asleep. It still takes a while to persuade her to sleep, but when she finally drops off, you know. Her round little face smooshes up against my shoulder. Her hand holding the stuffed animal du jour relaxes. Her chubby legs stop fidgeting and just rest.

I think that's what I'll imagine if I get nervous on the flight: that compact, rounded form, those softly closed eyes and slightly open mouth, the sweet curling blonde hair. I think holding her is actually the closest I've gotten to flying.

New Charlotte Video

Lest you think things are always puppy dogs and rainbows in our house, here's video evidence of the anarchy that lurks just beneath the surface: Charlotte LOVES Chocolate.

So my dad "tagged" me to post six weird things about myself. Let's see...

1. I have to sleep with two pillows--one under my head, and one to grasp in a firm, yet not unaffectionate, embrace. In hotels with only a single pillow, I sometimes have to make do with a balled up sweater.

2. I have vivid dreams, and I almost always remember them, and remember most of the details about them. And then I bore my husband by telling him all about them.

3. I have an excellent memory for song lyrics. I only have to hear a song once or twice before I'll know most of the words. It appears Charlotte is inheriting this talent, as she is already able to sing many of her favorite songs verbatim (albeit in slightly adapted baby-talk).

4. I used to have only two foods/food groups I hated: melon (such as cantalope or honeydew) and bell peppers (any color). But after I had Charlotte, my aversion to these foods subsided. I have both cantalope and red bells in my fridge as I type.

5. I get into a zone when I read. If you try to talk to me while I'm reading, I probably won't hear you. This drives Jeff crazy.

6. I'm terrible at remembering names. I've tried all the tricks those books suggest, but inevitably I will forget your name within seconds of meeting you. Then I'll either figure it out later on my own, or go through life too embarrassed to admit that I can't remember your name. This makes introductions terrible. Usually, I'll just say, "This is my husband, Jeff," and hope you'll introduce yourself. So that I can forget your name again in thirty seconds.

Okay, Scott. Your turn. And how about you, Mark?

Happy Easter!

Um...

Tonight, when I was making dinner, Charlotte came up to me, expressing her hunger.

"Mama, soooo hung-ee," she repeated several times.

I reassured her that I was getting dinner ready. Then she looked at me seriously, and said,
"Charlotte hung-ee. Hung-ee in the BOOBS."

Wow, that's pretty hungry. Her hunger had surpassed her stomach and moved on to her chest.

I swear, I don't know where she gets half this stuff. Hungry in the boobs? I can guarantee that phrase has never passed through my lips, or Jeff's. Or anyone's for that matter. Who says that? Bizarre.

Charlotte is very generous. A few days ago, she was eating dried cherries when she spotted the moon in the sky. "Here ya go, moon," she said, extending her hand. "Wanna some cherries?"

And just now she offered the bouquet of flowers on the counter a bite of her oatmeal. Then she said, "Silly baby Charlotte give-a oatmeal to flowers!" At least she gets that it's silly to offer inanimate objects foodstuffs.

Things are slowly getting back to normal around here. I have now heard back from every school, so no more waiting and stalking the mailbox. After more than a week, I think I have finally kicked this terrible bug. And today Charlotte seems to feel much better, too. And yesterday I had exams for both of my classes, so now all I need to do is finish grading and file my grades, and I can wash the dust of the winter quarter off my boots. Ahhhh.

I hope you are all doing well, too.

Oh, man. The flu...it was bad. I think I might have been a little stressed out anyway, because it hit me like a ton of bricks. I started feeling a little squiffy on Saturday. By Sunday, it was in full force. And today (Friday) is the first day I've felt almost entirely okay. I still have a hacking cough, and my appetite's not quite what it was (voracious), but I feel like I woke up on this side of the grave, and that's an improvement.

Compare that to this: Jeff and Charlotte both got the bug, too. For them, it was a 24-hour flu. Time-table: Good morning, mama! I feel a bit fevered. Ooh, now it's mid-day, and I'm definitely sick. I think I'll take an extra-long nap. That's nice. Now I'm still a bit tetchy and fractious this evening, but nothing a dose of Tylenol won't cure. See you in the morning, when I'll be fresh as a daisy! And, the end. Flu over. What?! Totally unfair. I had lots of work to do this week, and no energy to do it. What did Charlotte have to do? Busy important coloring tasks and diaper-filling. Completely unjust!

Anyway, I'm back. I have lots of things to catch up on, including paper grading and planning my courses for next quarter. But today was the last day of classes for this quarter, so I have two weeks of class-free excitement to look forward to. What shall I do with my freedom? I think I'll deep-clean my filthy house.

We will also spend part of my spring break visiting Amherst, Massachusetts, a place I've never seen but might be living for the next four years. I don't want to leap into this blindly, so we're gonna check it out. And after that I go visit Lawrence, Kansas. Now, I just read an article about a woman in Kansas who hadn't left her bathroom in two years. Her skin grew over the toilet seat. (!!!) People, this kind of thing is not my cup of tea. Please make sure there will be no toilet-confined people about when I visit. Thank you.

I only have one school to hear back from: Iowa. What's up, Iowa? Get it in gear! Today I got an acceptance from Nebraska, via the website, so not very informative. Here's where I stand:

Yep: UMass, Georgia, Kansas, Southern Illinois, Nebraska, Purdue (with no funding)
Waitlisted: Ohio, Loyola
Nope: Minnesota, Indiana, Washington, Colorado
Still waiting: Iowa

Looking at that list, I have to say I feel very fortunate. I got into more schools than not, which is a pretty fabulous ratio at this level. Even though I was very, very disappointed about the top three rejections, I am so happy to have options. But having options means I have to make decisions. And having to make difficult decisions stresses me out. Did I mention I had the flu for a week? Yeah. I rest my case.

I'll be back soon with a little Charlotte TLC, plus an update on how she's turning into a whiny toddler and it's terrifying! TERRIFYING!

The Flu

I got it. The flu. Senor Influenza. Young Master Lethargy. Dominie Van Shivers. Etc.

Looks like Miss C and Jeff might be coming down with it, too.

Bleaaarrgh.

This has been a rough week. I got three rejections, from my top three programs: Minnesota, Washington U St. Louis, and Indiana. Monday, Tuesday, and five minutes ago.

I also got an acceptance to Purdue, but without funding. So, if we're using our wrestling ring metaphor, that's like a legless Boilermaker, I guess? In other words, no dice. Sorry, Boilermakers.

So it's down to this:

In: UMass-Amherst, Kansas, Georgia, Southern Illinois, Purdue (no $$)
Out: Minn, WashU, Indiana
Still Waiting: Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Loyola

Jana: Charlotte, time for bed! Go give dada a kiss!
Charlotte: NOOOOO!
Jana: Yep, give dada a kiss.
Charlotte: No! I kiss a-hug dada inna minute!

Sometime in the last couple of weeks, my baby has turned into a little girl. She talks in complete sentences. She sings songs. She imagines things. She acts out scenarios with her stuffed animals and dolls. She prompts us when she wants something: "Want some breakfast, baby?" she says, sotto voce. When we repeat her question, she responds with an enthusiastic "Okay! How about...oatmeal!"

The other morning I was making some scrambled eggs for breakfast. When I put them in on her high chair tray, she ate a couple of bites, and then said, "Wanna cookie, baby?" I didn't bite. "No cookies for breakfast, Charlotte," I answered. She paused. Then, enunciating every word and speaking loudly, as one does to a foreign speaker, "A cookie. OATMEAL. RAISIN. COOKIE."

I laughed, but I didn't give in.

She is a toddler now, and she knows her mind. She has a strong will, and she lets you know about it.

"NO DIAPER!" she'll shriek on the changing table. "Be naked! Be naked, and run around!"

I encourage her to go potty in the toilet. "No potty inna toilet," she says. "Potty onna grounds."

When it's time to eat, I tell her to go over by her highchair. "No eat inna chair," she insists. "Eat onna steps."

But just as frequently as she is trying and tiresome, she is the sweetest little girl I've ever met. When I go to get her out of her crib in the mornings, she usually greets me with a big smile and a "Mama's here!" The other night, while she was running around upstairs before bedtime, I lay down on the floor of her bedroom. She stopped in her tracks, and made a beeline for me. "Mama...my mama," she said softly. She lay her head down on mine, cheek against my cheek. She stroked my hair with one hand and hugged me with the other, all the while murmuring "mama, mama."

And in this corner...

We have a t-shirt wearing bulldog. Yep, that's right...an acceptance from University of Georgia today!

Uh, this is getting more complicated than I anticipated. I have eight more schools to go (got a perfunctory waitlist from OU today) and the ring is getting crowded. Not that I'm complaining!

Maintain Radio Silence

I'll assume from the lack of acknowledgement, let alone response, to my last post that y'all patently Do Not Want the Tigs to pack up your niece/granddaughter/no-relation-but-still-love-her Charlotte and move her to the godforsaken country of Western Massachusetts. I know, I know. I already google-mapped it and I know it's far away. Just rest assured that all the results are not yet in, no decisions have been made, etc. So stay tuned.

Also, how do you think the UMass Minutemen would fare against the Salukis or the Jayhawks? I mean, he looks pretty fierce and all in that photo. He's got his sleeves rolled up to expose his biceps, no doubt strengthen'd by years fpent fhoveling manure on ye olde horfe farm. But you know that behind that logo he's wearing knee-breeches and tights. Not too encouraging.

In other news, today is Charlotte's 20-month birthday. We spent some time watching movies of Charlotte from a year ago. Holy cow, she's grown up! I mean, I know she had, but...wow. She went from this chubby little squealer to a real-live walking and talking toddler.

She loved watching the movies, too. She laughed along with her baby self, and pointed out people she know when they came onscreen. Maybe we'll start a new tradition of watching old Charlotte films more regularly.

I spoke (posted?) too soon...just received an email acceptance to University of Massachusetts-Amherst!

Charlotte just told me she wants to "color a-picture a-Johnny Cash a-doggie bones." I'm sure that's just the thing a deceased music legend wants!

No new news on the grad school front. I keep waiting until I have exciting news to post, but that's apparently not happening, so I'll return to my usual format of humorous Charlotte quotes.

Charlotte has a message for you:

No, not "I love you." The message is "grrrrrr." Look at that face! It's the best I could get her to smile this morning.

Happy Valentine's Day from all of us.

Salukis vs. Jayhawks: A Deathmatch

Yesterday I got an acceptance from the University of Kansas. I think I'm going to make decisions based on imagined wrestling matches between university mascots. So, who do you think would win: a weird, permed-eared dog, or a jaunty, mythical shoe-shod bird?

One down...

Twelve to go. I got my first grad school response today--an acceptance to Southern Illinois University in Carbondale. In addition, I've been nominated for a doctoral fellowship (which I'll find out about March 7). It's a good start!

Will it make me check my mailbox or inbox with any less frequency? Probably not.

I'm usually gone to school when the mail truck arrives. I don't have office hours on Fridays, so I'm sitting here, checking my email while Charlotte colors pictures on the floor behind me, when it pulls around the bend. "The mail is here!" I squeal to Charlotte, who says "yep," unimpressed, and returns to her coloring. I am waiting impatiently for the mailman to unload everything and leave before I throw on my shoes and coat and run out to check.

Last month, I finished the final of my thirteen Ph.D. applications. And while it is still a bit early to be expecting responses, I am a woman obsessed. Every phone call, every email, every thin envelope or fat 9x12 could be a potential yes or no. Every time I approach the mail box, mail key in hand, my heart starts racing. This really isn't healthy.

***

Well, I'm back. Nothing. Junk mail never seems so junky as when you're waiting for something really important.

She's a Lady

Charlotte can't get through a meal these days without barking out commands: "Clean a-hands! Clean a-hands!" I dutifully wipe her hands off so she can continue to pick up mac-n-cheese pieces with them, or yogurt, or eggs, while she clutches her utensil in her other hand.

This morning she woke up with a runny nose, so it's "Clean a-hands! Wipe a-nose! Maaamaaaa!"

I'm thinking of setting a formal table complete with finger bowl for Her Majesty.

Last weekend, Jeff, Charlotte, and I headed to Chicago. Technically we spent a majority of our time in Palos Heights, at Trinity Christian College, from which Jeff and I graduated. I was invited back to participate in the Dan Diephouse Graduate Studies Conference, as a panelist and presenter. I had a great time doing so, in part because I realized that I've become a real self-educated expert on the process of applying to graduate school. It was also amazing to be back on Trinity's campus with my daughter. Only eleven (!) years ago, her father and I were sneaking off to the baseball dugouts to neck or holding hands surreptitiously in chapel. Now we were taking turns chasing our rambunctious toddler around the cafeteria or chapel or new cafe (of which I am extremely jealous).

I have two favorite memories from the weekend. The first was after the breakfast panel discussion on Saturday. Students, alumni and faculty were mingling after the panel adjourned, talking casually and catching up. I walked back into the meeting room at one point and found my former undergraduate advisor, who is now the department chair, and a new English faculty member crouching on the floor, coloring pictures with Charlotte.

The second was at Shedd Aquarium later that same day. My parents and brother plus Mindi joined Jeff, Charlotte and I for a trek downtown. I had decided weeks ago that gray, slushy February would be the perfect time to check out one of Chicago's indoor attractions; the rest of the city and tri-state area apparently felt the same way, as the museum was packed. But we forgot the crowds as we witnessed Charlotte's awe and excitement over the fishies, turtles, penguins, and octopi. I got choked up when she was sitting on my lap, watching the dolphin show. I kept pointing out the dolphins as they jumped out of the water or flipped their tails. "Do you see him?" I'd ask. In response, Charlotte would nod, too entranced to respond. Later that night, she recounted to all of us in the van what she'd seen. "A-dolphins...ina POND! What doing? Dolphins JUMPING! A-dancing! Ina water!"

Are all 19-month-olds this entertaining?

Some days Jeff and I just sit, watch and listen to Charlotte as she provides her funny, random running commentary on the world. We went out for a walk yesterday. The second we're out the door it begins.

"It's a birdie! A birdie, a-flying! A-a-a-fly AWAY in a SKY!"

"We walk...a-weird. We walk a-weird." (This is her interpretation of a song with the lyrics "We walk through the world.")

"Mama alright. Dada alright." (I have to admit to playing "Surrender" by Cheap Trick for her once or twice. It's part of my running mix. She's picked this part of the song up.)

Someone drives by in a car. "Hello, car. Hello lady. Lady...a-driving. A car! Noisy car!"

Right now Charlotte is eating ("Mmmm. Delicious oatmeal! Funny Grandma [the Quaker on the box]!") She stopped in the middle of a bite and said "Charlotte kiss mama?"

I was happy to help.

Found it!

The cord to the video camera, that is. Watch Charlotte's new video here. Pay particularly close attention at 3:51 and 4:55--you might need to turn up the volume. We're so proud.

I don't know if my haggard, weary expression, rumpled hair and smudged glasses, or coat thrown hastily over my pajamas clued her in. More likely it was the fact that it was after midnight on a Saturday night at Wal-Mart, and I was buying a humidifier and Vicks Vap-o-rub.

"Somebody sick at your house," the checker, whose nametag said "Sheryl", said. It was a statement, not a question, but I answered anyway.

"My baby," I said, feeling every bit as weary as I looked.

***

Charlotte is sick. She's had a persistent, hacking cough for a while now. I'm ashamed to say how long. I guess it started as a normal cold before Christmas. Then, she seemed momentarily better when we got back to Ohio after the New Year. But I'm wondering now if it never actually went away.

Last week she had a fever, and some diapers whose contents were suspended somewhere between the states of liquid and solid. This weekend, her poor nose was so stuffed up that she would snore herself awake almost hourly at night, and wouldn't nap at all. Hence the midnight humidifier purchase. If she's still as bad tomorrow, we'll bring her to the doctor.

What is it about sick kids that makes everyone bust out their horror stories? If my baby has a runny nose, I want to hear "common cold," not "my nephew had that and they thought it was nothing and it turned out to be THE BUBONIC PLAGUE!" Charlotte does not as of yet have any supperating buboes, so I think we dodged that bullet. But, seriously, why, people? I'm worried enough rocking my baby back to sleep for the fifth time that night. I don't need to be worrying about pneumonia or the whooping cough or anything else I can't do anything about until daybreak anyway.

Now watch: we'll go to the doctor and she'll have pneumonia. If you need the address to which to send my Mother of the Year award, just email me.

I know, I know...it's been a week and I haven't posted anything. I KNOW! I have this GREAT video of Charlotte that I'm going to put up here just as soon as I can find the cord I need to download it from the camera. I know it's around here somewhere...

What Charlotte Does These Days When Asked To Smile: Photographic Evidence

Exhibit One: The Squinty Wince:



Exhibit Two: The "Underbite":

Exhibit Three: The "Bulldog":

Pardon the unedited nature of these shots. These are the raw files from today's 18-month photo shoot. I took nearly 40 frames and got only one shot where she was sitting up relatively straight and looking in the general direction of the camera with her eyes open.

A conversation

The scene: Breakfast. Charlotte has moved on from her first course of scrambled eggs with ham to oatmeal, although she still has a piece of ham on her shoulder. I am eating oatmeal as well.

Charlotte: (muttering to herself) Delicious. Delicious.
Charlotte: (out loud) Hi, mama!
Mama: Hi, Charlotte! How are you?
Charlotte: (silence)
Mama: How are you, Charlotte?
Charlotte: Ooh, ham!

Moments later:

Charlotte: Hello, ladies!
Mama: (laughing) I can only assume you mean me. So, hello!
Charlotte: I'm fine!
Mama: I didn't quite ask yet, but that's good to hear.
Charlotte: Fine! Good! You?
Mama: I'm fine, tha...
Charlotte: (interrupting to bellow) DELICIOUS HAM!

Tonight, Jeff, Charlotte and I were all out for a walk. One thing Charlotte likes to do is greet people she sees with the name of someone she knows. Typically, she goes for the closest approximation. So any gentleman over the age of 65 is Dick, the name of our apartment office manager's husband. Guys are generally Uncle somebody (Awesome, Mark, or Steve). Girls are typically Becca, Mindi, or, for a pair of ladies, "aunt Katies."

Tonight, Charlotte pointed ahead of us on the bike path and said "two aunt Katies!"

"Uh, no, Charlotte," I responded. "That's just one person. And he's a guy. He's not even one aunt Katy."

But I thought I had more time!!!

Charlotte has a new favorite word. That word is "no." This is her standard response, even when she actually wants something, a time when the answer for most people would be "yes," or "sure," or even "hey, why not!" A typical conversation:

Mama: Charlotte, are you hungry? Do you want some mac-n-cheese?
Charlotte: No!
Mama: Are you sure?
Charlotte: No! No (less certain now). No no no (melting down, waving arms around wildly).
Mama: Uh, okay, let's get you some food.
Charlotte: (while running to the high chair) No! No no no!

Or this one:

Mama: Hey, Char-char, let's take a bath*!
Charlotte: No! No bath.
Mama: Yep, it's bath time. We can play with your cups!
Charlotte: (while climbing the stairs to get to the bathroom) No! NO CUPS!

I know this is normal. But what I don't understand is, I thought it was normal for a two-year-old. You know, two? When demonic little imps take over the once-angelic form of your child, and you're left with a quivering wreck of a toddler who can't tell you what she wants but can only emphasize that what you're offering is definitely NOT IT.

The thing is, Charlotte is 18 months old. A year and a half! That's not two, imps! Leave her alone!

*By which I mean, "You take a bath." I don't get in there with her or anything.

Happy New Year!

One of my resolutions for this site is to start a couple of regular features. One that I am starting today is the weekly photo of Charlotte. It's sometimes hard for me to think of things to write, so I took a page from my writing instructor's book: write a description or evaluation of an image. Describing a photo of Charlotte (why I like it, why I took it, what's going on in it) is a great way to tap my memory.

So here's the first one, kind of a cheat since it's from last week, but cut me some slack! I was on vacation!

This is Charlotte, all bundled up and enjoying the fresh snow in Iowa. You can also kind of see the downed branches on the trees in the background from the major ice storms that moved through the Midwest in December. Charlotte didn't stay out for very long--long enough to watch Nana Deur build a tiny snowman, but it was pretty cold.

One thing this picture makes me think of is the book Snow. It's one of Charlotte's favorites, and occasionally she busts out some of the lines from the book, like "Oh yes, oh yes" (which in the book is followed by "I do like snow.") or "Come out! Come out!" ("Come out in the snow!").

Also, the way she pronounces "snow" is pretty adorable. It's hard to describe, but it sounds a little bit like "no" but with kind of a nasal thing at the beginning. That's how she starts any word that begins with the "sn" sound: "snake" is "nake," "snail" is "nail," etc.

Speaking of pronunciation, remind me to tell the story of the way Charlotte says "fork." I bet you can guess!

End of the year wrap-up

I did this last year, and thought I'd keep the tradition alive.

1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before? Got a graduate degree.
2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I think my vague resolution was to lose my baby weight, which I'm working on. My resolution for next year is to stay in shape, keep running, and work on building up my academic resume.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yes! Several Athens friends and a Pella friend had babies.
4. Did anyone close to you die? My grandpa Deur died in April.
5. What places did you visit? Iowa and Michigan, mostly, same as last year.
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? An idea of where I'll be doing my Ph.D. A potty-trained daughter.
7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? April 21, the day my grandpa died. June 23, Charlotte's first birthday. November 8, my 30th.
8. What was your biggest achievement(s) of the year? Getting my master's degree. Starting and sticking with a running regimen.
9. What was your biggest failure? I can't think of any, which is pretty good.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I stubbed my toe really hard today, and think it might be broken. Other than that, no.
11. What was the best thing you bought? Our "new" (2001) Subaru Forester.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Again, Jeff's. He's a rad dad.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Charlotte, when she wouldn't sleep. Thankfully, this is mostly resolved.
14. Where did most of your money go? Ph.D. applications. Also, see #11.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Real Food by Nina Planck. Everything Charlotte does. Losing weight and fitting into my old clothes again.
16. What song will always remind you of 2007? Most of the songs I run to. Kids' songs I sing to Charlotte (ABC, Itsy-Bitsy Spider, Twinkle Twinkle, etc.)
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Definitely happier, since I'm getting more sleep.
b) thinner or fatter? Thinner. Hurrah!
c) richer or poorer? A little poorer.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Spent more time outside when the weather was nice. Worked more on my Ph.D. applications.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Grading papers, but I'm afraid that's a necessity in my line of work.
20. How did you spend Christmas last year? On the road between Iowa and Michigan.
21. Did you fall in love in 2007? With butter, perhaps. Oh, and a little someone named Charlotte.
22. What was your favorite TV program? We got rid of our TV in 2007, but Arrested Development episodes in the internet continue to entertain.
23. What did you do for your birthday in 2007? Taught my class in the morning. Had dinner with Jeff, followed by dessert with my friends. Then drove to Columbus to pick my parents up from the airport.
24. What was the best book you read? Real Food by Nina Planck. Re-read The Brothers K by David James Duncan.
25. Who was the best new person you met? Hmmm. I had met Kristen before, but we didn't really become friends until this year, so I'll go with her.
26. What was your greatest musical discovery? Elizabeth Mitchell's kid's music was a good one. The Decemberists and Beirut, too.
27. What did you want and get? An iPod. A new car.
28. What did you want and not get? New camera equipment (flash, lens). We'll save that for after the Ph.D. apps are in.
29. What was your favorite film of this year? I loved Waitress, Across the Universe, and The Darjeeling Limited.
30. Did you make some new friends this year? Yes.
31.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Not having had to take Spanish this summer.
32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007? Revisiting The Pre-Pregnancy Wardrobe.
33. What kept you sane? Running, surprisingly. Playing with Charlotte. Hanging out with my friends.
34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Fancy? That seems like an inappropriate question for a married woman to answer.
35. What political issue stirred you the most? The war.
36. Who did you miss? My family. My grad school pals who left.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007. Take care of your body.

Just a quick update to say we're having a nice time in Iowa. Charlotte can't believe her luck: a week with Papa and Nana Tig, with Uncles Steve and Mark and their respective Katy/ies followed by a week with Papa and Nana Deur, with Uncle Awesome!? How lucky can one girl be?

I'm writing this in Smokey Row Coffee Shop in Pella. When I came into town this morning to do some work I complete forgot that Fred Thompson was going to be at Smokey Row this morning too. It was pretty crazy in here. I guess Huckabee was at Pizza Ranch this morning. Clinton (Hillary) was here earlier this week. Romney is here Saturday. I had forgotten what things were like in Iowa during a nomination year. Political ads by the dozens on TV. Phone calls from candidates left and right. Blegh. Give me Ohio.

How did the visit with Santa go? I'm glad you asked!

Fantastic!

One of the advantages of being in a relatively large metropolitan area is the sheer number of indoor places to go with Charlotte. In Athens we're pretty much limited to our steady rotation of the library, uptown (to get coffee for mama and a muffin ["mussin"] for Charlotte), or mama's office. Maybe the grocery store. Or the bakery. That's about it.

In our five days in Grand Rapids, we've managed to hit up two major museums: Frederik Meijer Gardens and the Children's Museum. Both were big hits.

At the Gardens, Charlotte was most impressed by the tiny little partridges running around the tropical room. A close second was the Holiday Express Train, which I found even more fascinating. It was awesome! A gorgeous, elevated cedar-clad track ran through several rooms in the Gardens. The display also featured miniature replicas of downtown Grand Rapids buildings.

Ostensibly we went to check out the international Christmas tree show. Charlotte liked the little shoes filled with nuts under the Brazil tree.

We posed for the obligatory blonde-haired, blue-eyed Dutch girl photos next to the Netherlands tree.

And we revisited (well, revisit for Jeff and I, first visit for Charlotte) the gorgeous Chihuly in the ballroom, laying down on the floor so as to best view it. I have no idea what's going on in Charlotte's diaper region. I swear it didn't look this bulgy when we were there.

But the Children's Museum was the big hit. Charlotte was so overwhelmed with the awesomeness that most of the time she just stood motionless, staring and taking it all in. Tuesday at the museum they offer toddler time crafts. This week's craft was building a play-doh snowman. Since Charlotte has a minor obsession with snowmen (thanks, in part, to the classic P.D. Eastman book Snow), we had a lot of fun decking out her own triple-tier doughman with buttons and a fabric scarf.

The bubbles were another big attraction, although she prefered to watch Dada make the big bubbles.

On tomorrow's agenda: get Charlotte out to the festive Santa-wonderland at the mall for a meet-and-greet with the big man himself. We'll see how that goes.

One Year

Above: Charlotte, December 2006. Below: Charlotte, December 2007

One year ago I typed up my first official entry for this blog. Now, a year later, I've written/posted nearly 120 entries, including photos and videos, and of course many, many gripes about sleeping issues. Which, incidentally, seem to be resolved. I hesitate to say anything, but for almost two weeks now Charlotte has slept through the night. That's more nights in a row of sleeping through than we previously had in total. And that is all the Christmas I require!

For Tig Web's one-year anniversary, I'd like to do a roll-call. Who's reading? How often do you check in? What would you like to see more of on this blog? Leave a comment and let me know. Thanks!

This post is really just an excuse to:

1. Post the above picture of Charlotte, taken today at Emeriti Park on the OU campus. It was nearly 70 degrees today! Sorry all you more northern midwesterners who are experiencing snow and ice and misery. Charlotte and I were enjoying mud and warmth.

2. Wish Jeff's dad a happy birthday! Or, as Charlotte would say, "Happy papa!"

Okay, I think we've convinced Jeff to write about his trip, in some way, shape, or form. The form is to be decided, though. Perhaps his own blog?

A few things in brief:

We have a fisher-price nativity set that she's been really into playing with lately. Her favorite figurine is baby Jesus. She says that so preciously you can't even believe it. I'll have to get it on tape. She also has a tendency to transport the figurines from place to place. A couple days ago, baby Jesus went missing. This was a bit distressing for Charlotte, who would ask to play with baby Jesus, and then say: "Baby Jesus...where go?"

Don't worry, the story has a happy ending. I came downstairs yesterday and told Jeff: "I found Jesus. He was in the dirty laundry." Didn't realize what I said until he laughed.

Continuing our religious theme, Charlotte is learning to pray. She knows to fold her hands and say "Amen" at the end. Usually her prayer is "Sank oo, God. More God. Amen." Pretty theologically deep, if you think about it. The other day, she sang a little song that went like this: "Turtle, bi-ig turtle. Amen!" I guess we do try to be thankful for everything.

Almost There...

Jeff's plane is about to take off from Honduras, so it seems a suitable time to say "whew. We made it." He won't really arrive back here until sometime after midnight, but the last leg of the journey is underway at least.

I learned some surprising things this week. First, the house stays much, much cleaner when Jeff's not around. This surprised me because I expected that two people around to clean things up would be better than one. But, no. I have come to the conclusion that Jeff messes faster than I can tidy. Interesting.

Secondly, I have discovered that I really relied on my morning sleep-ins Jeff would give me almost every day. Being up in the middle of the night with an insomniac baby is a little easier when you know you'll be able to catch another couple uninterrupted hours of sleep in the morning. Jeff's getting up with Charlotte in the mornings totally absolves his messiness.

Finally, I learned how much fun it can be to hang out with Charlotte. I mean, I knew it before, but I figured that eight straight days of all Charlotte, all the time would become a bit boring or monotonous. But actually she's quite entertaining. Despite the toddler-style tantrums she's starting to throw. I heard the "terrible twos" actually start at 18 months. If so, here we come!

I'm thinking I'd like to get Jeff to write a post on here about his experience in Honduras. Whaddya think? Would you like to read that here? Post a comment to let me know.

You know, sometimes I'm really amazed at how much Charlotte is absorbing. We were just over in the apartment complex office visiting with Ruth. When we walked in, Ruth called out "Good morning, sunshine!" to Charlotte. Charlotte gave her this look, like "what are you talking about?" No response, really.

Ten minutes later we're back in our apartment. Charlotte's coloring and I'm checking my email. Suddenly she's there by my side. It takes me a second to figure out what she's saying, but it's this: "More 'morning sunshine?' More Ruth?" I said "good morning, sunshine" to her and she laughed at me.


Now she's singing and spinning in circles, chanting "morning sunshine morning sunshine" over and over.

You might not know it be reading my complain-y posts lately about Charlotte's wretched sleep habits, but I am having a really good time with her these days. Yes, it's hard to do this alone, and I miss Jeff (whom Charlotte thinks is still "dada...airplane," apparently on a perpetual round-the-world flight), but spending almost every hour of the day (and many of the night, too) with Charlotte is really a privilege and a joy.

She's learning so much. I've said it before, but it bears repeating: the girl talks up a storm. She's incredibly verbal. She's stringing together sentences, asking questions, making up songs. She picks up on things so quickly, it amazes me. I wish my mind were as receptive to new knowledge as her's.

Some recent gems:

Charlotte got a fisher-price nativity set from my parents last Christmas. I got it out for her yesterday, and she's really into it. Especially "baby Jesus," whom she'll talk about and ask for constantly. She also requests "Angel macon," which means she wants to hear the music the set plays when you press down on the rooftop angel. "Macon" is her word for music.

She can sing familiar songs well enough that I can recognize them. One favorite follows; see if you can guess the song based on Charlotte's rendition: "Raining, poh-ing. Old man. Bumbahead. Abed. Morning."

Her favorite song these days is "Baby Mine," from Dumbo. She requests "cuddle? Baby Mine?" which means she wants to sit cuddled on my lap while I sing her the song. These moments are by far the highlight of my day.

Tonight in the bath she took all her duckies out of her bath toy crate and lined them up on the edge. Pointing to them randomly, she said "one...two...three...six...nine...six...five! Yay!" Then she said "mama count," obviously wanting me to double-check her math. I counted to seven and she laughed at me. I guess she was confident in her solution. Perhaps she knows I scored below the 50th percentile on the math portion of the GRE. She's right to question my math skills.

I'll try to be better about posting more of these little anecdotes, because I know they paint a better picture of Charlotte than just the complaints. But I also want to thank each of you for your great advice and words of comfort about the sleeping issues. It really means a lot to me.

As difficult as it is normally to deal with Charlotte's erratic sleep habits, it's exponentially worse when handling it alone. No matter how frustrated I'm getting listening to her "cry it out" (ha!) or bending over her crib soothing her, I know that if I get too wiped out I can pass the baton to Jeff. It was very hard this morning after the third round of crying and soothing and waking up again to go back to our bedroom and see Jeff's side of the bed, neatly made. I was all alone with an unreasonable child.

Charlotte had three great nights of fairly difficult bedtimes but then sleeping through the night. That streak was broken Monday night, the last night Jeff was home before leaving for Honduras. Tuesday she woke up at 2:30 and went to sleep at 4. Last night she was up at 1:30 and finally dropped off at 5.

When I look at that time span (3 1/2 hours!) I'm amazed I held it together as well as I did. I freaked out at one point, yelled at her ("go to sleep!") and then left the room and called my parents. My dad, for the record, sounds very lucid on the phone at 2:30 a.m. central time. Even though I still had an hour and a half of work ahead of me after I got off the phone with him, I felt better--comforted, less alone.

And this morning, after my piddly two and a half hours of sleep, my friend Wendy was kind enough to come over and watch Charlotte while I took a nap. I woke up feeling refreshed, even though I'm pretty sure I was dreaming about my new career as a car thief.

What will I do if she does this every single night? Just keep working, crying, and calling when need be, I guess. It's all I can do.

This is not an auspicious beginning.

It is 3:43 a.m. I am up folding laundry. It's one way to pass the time while I let my baby scream herself hoarse for the third round of crying. She's been awake since 2:30 a.m.

FUN!!!

Today at 4:30 p.m., I dropped Jeff off at our church. From there he drove with a group of other parishoners to Columbus, where they'll spend the night before flying out to Honduras early tomorrow morning.

Jeff and the group of volunteers from church will be working for a week at Montana de Luz, an orphanage for HIV positive kids south of Tegucigulpa. He'll be back home December 5.

I'm really excited for Jeff. I had the opportunity to go on two international mission trips when I was in college (Honduras in 1997, the Philippines in 1999), but Jeff never did. When calls for volunteers to go on this year's trip came up this past summer, I nudged Jeff. "You should do that. You should go," I said. I knew I'd be done with school for the quarter by then, and that if there was any good time for me to single parent, that would be it.

His wheels started turning, and a few months later he signed on. Thanks to the generous donations of our friends and family in addition to church fundraising he was able to come up with all the money he needed to take the trip. And he managed at the last minute to get his (apparently lost) passport renewed and expedited. On the way to church today he did mention he forgot to pack a towel, but those of us who know Jeff know his penchant for not showering should make that not too much of an issue.

I really hope he has an amazing, transformative experience there. And I hope Charlotte and I are able to hold it all together here. I have a network of friends from school and church who have gone out of their way to let me know they're available to watch Charlotte for an hour or two here or there so I can maybe get a run in or go out for a cup of coffee. My biggest concern is the nights. After three great nights of sleep, Charlotte was back up to her old tricks last night, waking up at 2:30 and finally drifting off again around 4 a.m. Boo. Let's hope that's not a sign of things to come.

I'll keep you all posted about Jeff as I hear from him/the group. Check out that link above; it's a pretty amazing place.

Charlotte turned 17 months old on Jeff's birthday, November 23.

She nursed for the last time on November 22.

I never expected to be one of those people, one of those moms who is still nursing past the first birthday. I wanted to nurse up until her first birthday, sure (as recommended by many doctors and the World Health Organization, among others), but I guess I imagined a scene like this: Charlotte's first birthday party. The cupcake with single lit candle is produced. The crowd sings to the smiling little cherub. She destroys the cupcake in artistic fashion. Then she turns to me and says, in complete sentences, "Now that I'm one, mother, I disdain the breast. Thank you for your services, but from now on I will drink only from a cup and will also endeavor to do my own laundry."

Everything I wrote about happened, except for that last part. In fact, when Charlotte turned one, she showed no signs of slowing down in the nursing department. Quite the opposite, actually. She had learned to say "nurse," and now demanded nursing morning, noon, and night. I was upset about it for a while. I felt like I was ready to quit, to reclaim my body as my own.

But a number of friends and sources and, most importantly, Jeff, made me realize that this summer was probably not the best time to force weaning on Charlotte. "It'll probably happen more naturally when she's ready," one friend said. "You'll just know when that is."

I definitely knew when she was ready, but boy did it happen suddenly. I wasn't even planning on weaning last week. I just got too busy. Wednesday morning Jeff woke up with Charlotte and I slept a little longer, so we missed the morning nursing session. Then I was so busy Wednesday evening with the rebaking of burnt pies and other Thanksgiving preparations that Jeff whisked Charlotte off to bed without the aid of my mammaries. Same thing Thursday morning--too busy, and Charlotte was too distracted by Uncle Scott (a.k.a. Uncle Awesome, a distinct improvement over Uncle Caca) to care.

So one thing led to another and then it was Saturday and I was buying cabbage to shove in my bra and now it's Monday and I haven't nursed in four full days. So I guess we're weaning.

In quite possibly related news, Charlotte slept through the night the last two nights. We've made some changes, which I'll write more about later, but needless to say this is a vast improvement over the kind of sleep we were getting before. Hallelujah. Thanks for all your advice and well-wishes and concern. It really helped.

Happy birthday, Jeff. Your figure's changed a bit since we first met (11 years ago!) but I love you just the same.

Umm...

Last night, Charlotte went to bed (after the normal three rounds of crying and comforting) around 8:30 p.m. She slept until almost 2 a.m., when I heard her crying and saying "Mama" over the monitor. I waited ten minutes, then went in to the dark room. Jeff had turned the nightlight off. I kept it off and didn't get her out of her crib--just lay her back down and comforted her for a few minutes. It was hard to see in the darkened room, but I could tell by her breathing that she was asleep. I snuck out.

Then I woke up at 8 a.m. What? Wait, huh? I peeked in her room just to make sure she still had a pulse. Yep, still breathing. She woke up a half-hour later, totally refreshed and cheerful. She's now reading books with uncle ca-ca, who arrived last night.

If it could have been this easy all along, I'm going to feel really stupid.

No, I really burned the pie.

Let's get that depressing post off the top, shall we? How about an amusing anecdote instead!

This year I'm hosting Thanksgiving for a mishmash of friends and family. I've never done the whole turkey-stuffing-pie fest myself, so I wanted to be prepared. Today was prep day, where I spent time assembling casseroles, peeling and soaking potatoes, and baking pies. I finished one pie this afternoon, a sour cream apple. It was a thing of beauty. I set it on the stovetop to cool.

A couple hours later, Jeff asked me if I wanted a cup of tea. He put the kettle on to boil. A minute later, I smelled something distinctly smoky. Then, from my vantage point on the couch, I spotted the reflection of something in our stainless steel canisters...something that looked a lot like fire.

"Do you smell something?" Jeff asked.

"Uh, I think there's a fire in the kitchen. Like, an actual fire," I responded.

Jeff checked it out. Later he told me that he stood in the entrance of the kitchen and lightly blew on the inferno, which at this point was sending two-foot flames shooting into the air. Then he called for me.

I grabbed the fire extinguisher, urged Jeff to take the baby outside, and assumed my macho stance as I hosed down the fire.

Somehow Jeff had turned on the front burner, directly under the pie, instead of the back burner, under the teakettle. Oops. The pie was a total loss, I'm sorry to say. I also got to give my kitchen that deep-cleaning I'd been longing to give it for some time. Man, that stuff inside the extinguisher really gets everywhere.

Let's hope tomorrow's celebrations are a lot less fiery. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

More Video!

Charlotte's been busy. This is a long one, so make sure to take a bathroom break before you start it.

New Video!

Charlotte's Halloween 2007.

More video coming soon!

News Brief: Uncle Scott is now "uncle ca-ca."

That's an improvement over "uncle cocks," which is what Charlotte was calling him a few days ago.

This morning, as I was getting ready for school, Jeff and Charlotte were reading books in Charlotte's room. I heard lots of chatter from Charlotte, so I went to check it out.

The morning light was soft and pale, that November light that signals the beginning of winter. Jeff sat in the old white rocking chair with Charlotte, still in her pink footie pajamas, on his lap. They were reading "Caps for Sale," and Charlotte was telling Jeff about the "monkeys...peekaboo! Tss tss tss!"

It's not available in stores, but that's the best gift I could have gotten for my 30th birthday.

***

On a more humorous note:

If you ask Charlotte how old she is, she'll say "one!" and hold up her finger. I've been trying to teach her how old Jeff and I are. "How old is mama, Charlotte?" I'd ask. "One!" she'd reply enthusiastically. "No, mama is thirty, Charlotte. Can you say thirty?"

She thought about it for a second, then said, "FORTY!"

Let's go back to "one," how about.

A week late for Halloween, but:

Ghost Swing!

A real post, about Charlotte, coming as soon as I finish grading these papers.

Happy Halloween

Last night's trick-or-treating extravaganza went well, although Charlotte flubbed her lines. We'd been rehearsing the event for some days now. First we'd knock on something to simulate knocking on people's doors. "What do you say when they open the door?" I'd ask Charlotte. By yesterday she had it down. "Turkey teat!" she'd cry out. I'd mime putting candy in her bag, prompt her to say thanks ("Sank oo") and then wish the givers a happy Halloween.

Something happened when we got out into the neighborhood among the other costumed kids. Charlotte took one look at the bowls full of shiny, colorful candy and lost all her inhibitions and training. "What do you say, Charlotte?" I prompted her. But instead of turkey teat, she said something I had never heard her say before. "MORE CANDY!"

She varied her request through the night, sometimes requesting "more num-nums" or just "more," but we didn't once get her to say trick-or-treat. She was saying thank you, however, by halfway through the night. And I think I heard a couple "halloween"s in there as well. But somewhere between our back door and that first house, she channelled a normal, candy-grubbing beggar instead of the polite little urchin we were hoping for. Oh, well.

Last weekend, Jeff, Charlotte and I joined a group of people from our church in making a series of three short movies to help promote the new Saturday night service our church will be adding in January. Jeff wrote and had a brief cameo in video one. Charlotte and I were among the talent for videos one through three. The films will be posted on the website for your viewing pleasure.

See them here.

Happy 16-month birthday, Charlotte!

I listed some things you could say just a few days ago. I can now add to that list "I yuv you," which you can probably guess just melts my heart entirely. She'll say it to Jeff or I, usually after we say it first. She's a Rules kinda girl, I guess. Also, she's saying a few things that sound like "trick or treat" as we prepare her for the costumed festivities next week. Yesterday I coached her to say "trick or treat" and she responded with "turtle church," which I think is even better.

Some things Charlotte eats: carrots, peas, tomatoes, peaches, bananas (girlfriend ate two entire bananas today), thinly-sliced apple, grapes, cheese, ham (LOVES ham), other meat we call ham (like turkey meatballs and baked salmon, for example), smoothies (when I make my morning smoothie I always prepare extra to share), yogurt, cereal, oatmeal, crackers, mac and cheese (I healthy it up by mixing a puree of green veggies in), eggs.

She's not a huge fan of: pears (considers them fake peaches and throws them to the floor), green beans (unless I trick her by pureeing them and mixing with other things), potatoes, sweet potatoes, squash, milk.

She loves to: go for walks, read books, play with her kitties and other stuffed animals, play with mama's necklaces, play in the leaves, listen to music and dance, take things out of "her" drawers in the kitchen, take baths, talk on her fake phone (almost always to "papa"), snuggle with her kitties in "a-bed," hug mama and dada, point out other babies, see and greet people, hear mama and dada sing to her (she's requested "happy birthday" several times today), sit on the potty (although not necessarily using it), see bugs and make bug sounds, take her clothes out of the drawers, play peek-a-boo, say "bye-bye, dada" or "bye-bye, mama" when one of us leaves, be tickled, laugh (often if you say the word "funny" Charlotte will laugh loudly).

She's not a fan of: closing her eyes and going to sleep at night, loud sudden noises, getting too close to unfamiliar people or strangers in giant animal costumes (which, really, who isn't?), naps (sensing a theme here), diaper changes, wardrobe changes.

She's wearing some 18-24 month clothing now, and although we don't have an official weight from the doctor, I'm guessing she's still hovering around 22-23 pounds. She usually goes to bed (not without a fight!) around 8:30 p.m. and wakes up between 7:30 and 8:30 a.m. She's much better about napping these days, and almost always goes down for at least an hour (sometimes up to 2 hours) between 12-2 p.m. She is still nursing, but only once or twice a day and not for very long.

I look back at Charlotte one year ago--a chubby, floppy baby who still seemed like a relative mystery (what is she thinking? what does she want?)--and compare her to the bright, cheerful little girl (still a baby but glimpses of girlhood are clearer every day) of today. I love babies, but I would often mention that the baby-baby stage wasn't my favorite. I think that this age, right now, is my favorite. At least, so far it's my favorite. I hope to be saying the same thing about two and a half next October.

One year ago today, my cousin Amy and her husband John tied the knot. Happy anniversary, guys! I've been waiting for this day for quite some time, not just so I could wish you well, but so I could have an excuse to link to the video of the wedding dance on you tube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQxv3AtQNZY

What I love about this video is not just that it captures the fun we had doing this surprise dance, but that it sums up one of the things I really love about my cousin. Amy is a great planner, and having something so well-coordinated and thought out at her wedding is just par for the course. I like to think of this dance as the culmination of our years of fake music videos and commercials we cousins would put together.

Happy anniversary, John & Amy! Keep on dancin'.

Two years ago yesterday

I had a break between the morning class I taught and my Teaching College English pedagogy course, an hour window during which I walked up Court Street to the CVS pharmacy. It took me awhile to find the aisle I needed ("Eight, next to the contraceptives," the pharmacist replied when I asked, apparently not getting the irony). I bought the two-pack, because even in times of potential crisis I try to be the frugal Nederlander my husband wants me to be. The brand was First Response.

I walked back to Ellis Hall, went straight to the roomy handicapped stall in the ground-floor restroom, opened the package and awkwardly peed on one of the tiny sticks. There were people in the other stalls when I went in, but by the time I had counted to 180-mississippi, I was alone in the bathroom. Or, I thought I was alone. When I picked the test up from the top of the toilet paper dispenser where I had laid it down three minutes previously, I saw that I wasn't alone, and wouldn't be for the next nine months.

My life didn't change when I saw those two pink lines in the window of the pregnancy test. It didn't change when I got the small sheet of paper back from my blood test at Hudson Health just a few hours later, a sheet containing some medical gibberish I didn't understand, but one word, "positive," scrawled on the center of the sheet, that I immediately understood. It didn't change when I told Jeff that night on a bench overlooking the Hocking River that I was pregnant, that he was going to be a father.

The change happened gradually, coming on slowly over the following weeks and months. It's still happening now. I'm becoming someone new with every day I spend in the presence of this amazing little person, every day I get to spend with the man I married who became her father. This new person I'm becoming is like a better version of myself, closer to the me God sees when he looks at me.

Charlotte, thank you for being that little pink line, that unexpected news, that life-changing gift.

Here are some new things Charlotte says:

"shake a butt" -- this is a command statement. She wants to see me dance.

"halloween" and sometimes "happy halloween" -- thanks to Kristen who coached her while reading the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin book to her.

"yellow yeeves" -- her obsession with autumn continues in her constant quest to play with and in the leaves, which she describes as yellow no matter what color they are.

"pile" -- again thanks to Kristen, who assembled a meager stack of about seven leaves and called it a "pile." Charlotte was impressed...but babies are easily impressed, I guess.

"pumpkin" -- this is usually followed by "hug," as Charlotte expresses her desire to embrace this vine-growing squash.

"hank ooo" -- baby-speak for thank you. Used when prompted, joining "peees" in Charlotte's lexicon of parentally influenced polite words she now employs.

"dada bath" -- Jeff takes a bath with Charlotte one time and now she always wants to bathe with him.

"more..." -- followed by almost any word Charlotte knows. More doggies? More kitties? More cuwull (squirrel)? More wawa? More ham? More cheese?

"bug" -- followed by "bizzzzzzzz" and "zip!"

"flowers" -- it's impossible to replicate the adorable way Charlotte says this word. She loves flowers. She'll sniff every single bud on my mum plant if given enough time, although her sniffs are exhales.

"puzzle" -- when she's playing with her animal puzzle from Nana and Papa Tig; sounds like "puddle"

"almost" -- when she's playing with her shape-sorter toy from Nana and Papa Deur and she almost gets a block through the appropriate hole; sounds like "ah-mohs."

"necklace" and "earrings" -- I don't wear jewelry alot, so when I do, Charlotte finds it worthy of commenting. Necklace sounds like "nekeeece" and earrings is "oi-ings."

According to my handy baby development chart, a fifteen-month-old "may say 5-10 words." Charlotte has a very extensive vocabulary for a child of her age. She learns a few new words almost every day. She repeats a lot of what Jeff and I say, making this the important stage in our parenting career where we start to say things like "gee willikers" and "fiddlesticks" instead of our normal string of expletives*.

I love that she's so verbal. She rarely cries or freaks out and I attribute that to her ability to communicate her desires to us. It is a wonderful gift.

*Just kidding! We never swear. Never, mom and dad.

Autumn in Athens

This past Monday the temperature topped out at 94 degrees. Thursday it didn't make 60. Fall is truly here...truly and suddenly. It happened so quickly that I was caught without a coat, wandering around campus in my three-quarter-sleeve shirt, teeth chattering.

Today was a little bit warmer, but still cool enough to warrant sweatshirts, plus a hat and a blanket for Charlotte, as we walked into town to watch the homecoming parade. To be completely accurate, we sprinted into town as the parade started at 9 a.m., and we all woke up sometime between 8:45 and 9:15 a.m. Fortunately we managed to beat the band (literally! Ha!) and saw the whole parade. We even ran ahead again so we could see the Marching 110 for a second, fabulous time.

Charlotte loves the marching band. She loved the floats (and may I just say that Pella's fabulous volksparade has obviously spoiled me for other parades; the floats are inevitable disappointing to someone who was weaned on Vermeer and Pella Corp.'s amazing offerings). She loved all the people. She especially loved the people who had doggies.

We took the opportunity for a little family photo shoot after the parade on a leaf-covered hillside. Charlotte played in the leaves (yeeves, she calls them) and shrieked "people! people!" as the crowds dispersed. It was a beautiful day.

Right now Jeff is on the phone with a customer representative from some energy drink company. He called to let them know about a spelling error in their nutritional facts.

When did my husband become a curmudgeonly old man? "Why don't you kids get your stuff off my lawn!"

Warning: Poop Post Ahead

Well, the big news around these parts is that Charlotte pooped in the potty last night. Or "hatched a turtle" if you will.

It was a half-hour long ordeal of Charlotte wandering naked around the bathroom and hallway farting and saying "p.u." while I encouraged her to "make a turtle in the potty!" When she'd wander close enough to me I'd nab her and set her on the potty and give her some good pooping grunts of encouragement. She'd imitate me, laugh, and then get up again and wander out into the hallway to toot. At one point she peed on the bathmat.

Then the mood changed and I could tell she was serious about it. Her stomach clenched and she got that middle-distance stare. I plopped her on the potty and held her hand. In just a few seconds she was up again, but this time she left something behind.

When I drew her attention to the lovely deposit she had made, she appeared a little weirded out. But I heaped praise upon her, applauding and saying "yay! Poopy in the potty!" I felt like an idiot, but it worked. She was very excited about her achievement.

Jeff wasn't home, so I took a few pictures to share. I certainly wasn't going to leave the poop in the potty because GOOD GRIEF did it stink. That's what a steady diet of cheese, eggs and ham will do to you. I told Jeff to check out the pictures on the camera this morning, and he apparently shared them with Charlotte, too. Now she demands "more potty" whenever I use the camera, and I have to present to her the slide show of her fecal triumphs while she watches intently.

It's certainly not one of those Kodak moments I envisioned when I was pregnant, but it'll do.

Sometimes I worry about having a daughter, a little girl who potentially will have to face all the crap regarding body image and size and weight and beauty standards that I did, but tenfold due to the even greater prevalence of media today. These two short films from Dove made me cry, because they encapsulate that.

"Onslaught"

"Daughters"

A good morning starts off as this one did, with Charlotte sleeping until nearly 9 a.m., and, when she finally woke up, talking to herself cheerfully until I came to get her. The sounds of her sweet little voice over the baby monitor make mornings a treat. This morning, we heard:

"Kitty! Kitty!" followed by laughter. She sleeps with her little stuffed orange tiger kitty in the corner of her crib. She likes to give Kitty hugs in the morning.

"Girl! Hi, girl!" said to the picture of a girl on the little pillow in her crib. It's made from vintage alphabet fabric, and she likes to identify and greet the different objects represented on the pillow. She also said hi to the ball on the pillow this morning.

Then, a sing-song chorus of "Mama, Dada. Mama, Dada. Dada, Dada. Papa! Nana, Papa. Nana, Papa. Papa, Dada," and so forth.

When I went into her room, she stood up, still clutching Kitty, and said, "Mama! Mow-ning!"

I don't hate mornings anymore.

Patch-tastic

It felt wrong to be wearing shorts and sweating at the pumpkin patch yesterday, but it was ninety degrees and it would have been wrong to costume ourselves in jeans and sweatshirts simply for the photo opportunities. Despite the steaming, sun-scorching heat, we had fun at the patch. Charlotte hugged the pumpkins, ran amok, and waved at everyone she saw. Even inanimate objects, like corn and balloons, warranted a greeting.

After our time at the patch we continued up to Columbus. Our friends Kurt and Kristen were along for the fall-themed fun, and we were meeting our friend Erin in German Village for eine gute Zeit (a good time). By the time the sun was low in the sky, it was much more comfortable. We hit up Katz's Deli, walked to the park, and had dinner at Schmidt's Sausage Haus. Charlotte enjoyed her genuine Deutsch mac and cheese, but even more so she enjoyed the Bavarian-styled oompah band who did great Donald Duck impressions. Don't ask.

All in all, a fine fall day, despite the Saharan temps.

Feeling Better...

"If possible, a woman should nurse exclusively for at least one year, or, ideally, until the baby loses interest...in modern hunter-gatherer societies, nursing for three years is typical and four to six years is not unheard of. UNICEF and the World Health Organization advise breast-feeding for 'two years and beyond."

From Real Food: What to Eat and Why by Nina Planck.

It has been a rough few days for me, time-wise. I've been really busy grading student papers, which means little to no time for posting. I can't tell you, though, how many times throughout the day Charlotte says or does something funny or remarkable and I think "I have to blog about that." I'm exhausted tonight. I finally finished paper grading last night, and accordingly my body has sacked me with a cold. I will go to bed soon. But first a few of Charlotte's funnies, in random bullet-point style.

• Yesterday she had a dirty diaper. Jeff was changing it. The turd was small, round, slightly flattened, greenish. Charlotte pointed to it and said "turtle?" Now she frequently wants us to check her "dipah" for a "turtle."
• Not only is she using words to identify things, but she's telling stories now too (albeit in a very abbreviated style). Today Charlotte and I spent a half-hour chasing squirrels around the College Green. She loved to watch them run up the trees. On the walk home, she would occasionally tell me about it: "Cuwull! Up! Twee!" And then, inevitiably: "More! More cuwull!"
• Jeff, Charlotte and I went to the OU football game on Saturday. Charlotte's favorite part of the game was the giant mascot, Rufus the Bobcat. She called him "big kitty." I have video of her talking about him that I'll try to post soon.
• Jeff is encouraging flights of fancy and imagination. One of their favorite things to do while I'm at school is lay on the big bed and pretend they're under the night sky. Charlotte now calls the smoke detector "moom" (that's "moon" to the rest of us).

More soon, I hope!

Finally!

A new Charlotte video. Apologies in advance for my singing.

Coming Soon to a YouTube Near You...

Our video camera has returned home, and Charlotte has been making with the cute quite a bit lately. I'll do my best to post some live Charlotte action...just as soon as I can finish grading these forty student papers!

Fifteen Months

Yesterday was Charlotte's fifteen-month birthday. We celebrated with some time outdoors at Ash Cave with Grandpa and Grandma Tig, ending the day with a trip to Dairy Queen. Strangely, Charlotte was more interested in her carrots and bananas at home than the whipped topping and ice cream at the DQ. Is this child related to me? I don't believe it.

More to come, but here, at least, is a new picture to tide you over.

Briefly (no pun intended)

The smell from Charlotte's just-dirtied diaper could strip paint off the walls. Thank goodness Jeff loves diaper-changing time!

Happy Anniversary!

Today is Jeff's and my seventh wedding anniversary. Here we are seven years ago today:



And here we are (about) seven years after that, getting ready to go out for a date (!) Friday night:


The past seven years have included some of the lowest lows of my life. I lost my Aunt Grace and my Grandpa Deur. I was fired from my very first job. I was rejected from several of the graduate programs to which I applied. Through each of these awful, stressful, mournful times Jeff proved what an amazing guy he was: supportive, thoughtful, listening and loving.

The past seven years have also included some the highest highs of my life. We took trips to the Smoky Mountians, the west coast, Ireland, and New York City, as well as random road trips around the midwest. We bought and sold our first house. We uprooted and moved to a new community and I started and finished my master's program. And, of course, the big one...we made this person:


Having a baby, and especially welcoming an unexpected baby, can, I think, be a real relationship litmus test. Charlotte proved that Jeff and I can work together under remarkable circumstances. After nearly fifteen months of parenting her, we've formed a parental team that makes me really proud. And that's probably the biggest achievement of our marriage.

Happy anniversary, Jeff!

Happy Birthday, Oma!

Today is my grandma Deur's 89th birthday! Perhaps because Charlotte is named after her, they have taken to each other quite well:


Here they are in August, 2006, when Charlotte was just two months old.

And here they are a year later, reading together.

Oma is also one of the people Charlotte can now reliably pick out in pictures. Any photo with Oma in it warrants an "Amaaah!" Closely followed by "bike," which is what Charlotte thinks Oma's walker is. :)

Happy birthday, Grandma!

It's hard to describe the adorableness that Charlotte brings to the table these days. I could tell you how she's become a little parrot, repeating (or trying to repeat) things Jeff and I say. She'll often say "okay!" and "sure!" and "yeah!" with about the same intonation that I say these words. "Charlotte, let's go get ready for your bath, okay?" I'll say. "Okay!" she'll respond. And she tries out other words, too: peaches, cheese, bat, water, Olivia (the book), play, toys, shoes, shirt...the list of new words added to her lexicon grows almost daily. Of course, many of these words only Jeff and I understand. Requests for another reading of Olivia, her current favorite, come out sounding like "Yaya." Water is "wawa" and shirt sounds like a certain four-letter expletive.

That same expletive was also the way Charlotte had decided her first name was pronounced for a while. And since her pronunciation for our last name is still "caca," we were a bit concerned. Fortunately, she's now adopted "Char-char" as her moniker of choice.

And her mobility! It's amazing. She's walking, really walking, with confidence. She only appears a little bit drunk when she's strolling up and down the halls, which is quite an improvement over a few weeks ago. In fact, when I think about it, I can't remember the last time I saw her crawl. Walking is the way to go, Charlotte has decided.

But I think the best, and most indescribable, development is this crazy, kooky sense of humor she's developed. She makes jokes! Like pointing to a picture of a chicken wearing a chef's hat in a magazine and saying "dada." Then looking at me with a wry little grin, waiting for me to laugh. And when she laughs, she really gets into it--head back, eyes squinting, nose wrinkling, "ha ha ha!" I mean, it's not high comedy or anything, but when I think back to where we were a year ago, all diapers and sleep deprivation and spit-up, this kind of interaction is very rewarding.

A new post coming soon about my first week of school and Charlotte's general awesomeness. But for now I give you this: Tig Blob.

Yes, it's another blog. And it's totally boring, just to warn you in advance. I'm trying to get back in shape, and I write about really mind-numbingly dull stuff like what I eat and how far I run. But if you find that interesting and want to check it out, there you go. Or, perhaps you want to place bets on how long until I quit (seriously, people. I'm running! If you know me and my history with running, you'll realize how ludicrous that is).

Noise Toys

Just now, Jeff was getting ready to take out the kitchen trash. As he removed the can from under the sink (that's where the Dutch keep their kitchen garbage, you know), the edge hit the cabinet. Suddenly we both heard the tinny melodic chimes of one of Charlotte's electronic toys.

Upon further examination, it appears Miss C threw her new cell phone toy away. I had noticed her subversively opening the cabinets while I was making her dinner earlier tonight...hmm. I guess it's time to get those child-proof latches up.

Potty Time!

Now, I realize this may totally be a fluke, a one-time thing, but it's exciting nonetheless.

Charlotte's been showing an interest in the toilet and what the adult members of her family do on the toilet. Early on I encouraged her to consider a relationship between herself and said bathroom appliance. "Big girls go pee-pee on the potty!" I would say encouragingly while she watched me do just that, transfixed. Soon she showed an interest in helping me flush, shutting the lid, and washing her hands along with me after the task was completed.

Earlier this week I picked up a training potty on a whim. I thought we'd set it up next to the big toilet and give her some time to get used to it. Perhaps even encourage her to sit on it, if for nothing else but to keep her from hanging all over me while I use the bathroom.

She was nearly ecstatic when she saw what we had gotten for her. "Look, Charlotte's potty!" I said. She caught on immediately: "Pahhh-tay! Pahtay!" We let her sit on it, diaperless and fancy free, a few times.

Then, today, as she sat next to me, poking me in the thigh and giggling, I heard the telltale sound of...pee-pee! In the potty! From Charlotte! She seemed to know what she'd done, too. I heaped praise upon her, clapping and saying "Yay! Potty!" Then we got Jeff to share the joy with dada. That was a moment I think will be captured in my memory forever: the little tableau of our family, crouching on the bathroom floor and pointing at plastic bowl full of my daughter's urine, cheering and clapping.