I am going to let you in on a little secret that’s well, not really that big of a secret: we are planning for baby number two. And while I am not, in fact, pregnant nowmach zehnder modulator I hope to, in fact, be pregnant within the next two months.
Two months seems like a reasonable amount of time in which to get pregnant and given our success last time (I was pregnant the first month of trying) it may really only take an afternoon of merely thinking about getting pregnant. If our timeline works out Isabella will be almost three by the time the new littlest Woolsey, who Isabella has suggested we name Big, is born. An added bonus to our proposed timeline is that I will have the baby towards the end of the semester and will then have the entire summer to spend with Isabella and the new addition.
Brian and I are beyond thrilled at the prospect of adding another little one to our family. Isabella has been nothing but a blessing, and while I know you don’t get the same kid twice, I am nonetheless excited to meet this baby that does not yet exist.
Case in point, Brian and I spent an evening pouring over boys’ and girls’ names in preparation for something still months away. Yes, we are psycho, but we now have a very respectable list of boys’ names, which by the way are extremely difficult to choose if you are a teacher, and one very, very adorable girl’s name, which was suggested by, of all people, Isabella and definitely trumps our first choice for a girl’s name which we have held onto since Isabella was born.
There are two things, however, surrounding a second child that make me concerned. The first is simply ridiculous, let me just say that up front, but regardless it is my worry. If you see Isabella with Brian it is rather obvious whose genes won out and you once know both of their personalities it becomes even more obvious that the Woolsey genes all but eradicated any trace of my side of the family. In Brian’s family the women have a girl first followed by a boy; thus, my concern.
I know my first and main concern should be the baby’s health and it is, but if I am being completely honest I am really worried about having a boy. I know there are some people who really don’t care one way or another, but I am a girl person. I love the dolls, the pink everywhere, the tea parties, the dressing up, the clothes, the nice relatively non-destructive play, etc. I really know nothing about boys beyond farts, trucks, dirt, messes, and the desire to know how everything works and so everything ends up torn apart.
My second concern has to do with labor itself. I’ve always heard that women block out the pain of labor, which explains why most women have multiple children. It’s been nearly two years since Isabella’s birth and I still have an indelible image of her birth. I can remember nearly every minute of the experience. I am hoping that what I recall is a grossly exaggerated version of the ordeal. I don’t remember being in the moment and thinking it was anything I couldn’t handle and clearly it wasn’t as Isabella and I both survived, so why am I so consumed with thoughts of the horrific nature of labor?
Am I the only one who hasn’t forgotten the realities of labor? Whether you have one kid or multiple, did you forget, or have you forgotten, what labor was really like?
It has been our habit of late to play outside in the evening just as the sun begins to dip behind the White Tank Mountains. Isabella plays in her sandbox while singing songs and recapping her day, runs around our backyard, and helps her Daddy water the garden. Last night, after watering, Isabella demanded that Brian sit with her on the edge of the fire pit. She crossed her little arms and began her nightly recap with, “So…”.
After a few minutes, Isabella noticed me sitting on the patio watching them. Not wanting to leave me out she yelled across the yard, “Mommy” and once I acknowledged her she proceeded to yell her story. I then got up and went to sit at the fire pit with them thinking perhaps the neighbors may not appreciate our 1 1/2 year old screaming out details of her day. Isabella patted the brick next to her and told me, “Mommy, sit right here.” So I sat and listened intently; she patted my arm a few times to make sure I was listening while I basked in the glory of our little family enjoying the lovely June night.
Suddenly, the niceties ended when Isabella stopped regaling us with tales from her babyhood and said, “Mommy, sit over there” while pointing to the patio. Brian immediately started snickering like a school girl while I donned a pout and said in the saddest voice possible, “Can I sit right here with you and Daddy?” Isabella looked at the patio, me, Brian, patted my back twice with her little hand and said, “No.”
I was booted by my own child! Brian, of course, was eating it up and could hardly contain himself. He was giggling and wheezing as I dejectedly made my way across the yard and back to the patio. I tried to play up the pouty lip, the deep sighs, and the sad tone in my voice, but several appeals later to her majesty I was still forced to stare forlornly at the two of them across the vastness of the darkening yard.
Isabella has forgiven me whatever transgression motivated her to use some tough love on me. Brian, however, is still reveling in what he sees as a parenting victory. His new favorite thing is to come up beside me, pat me on the back and say, “No”. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving!
Once upon a time I started a review blog with the intent of posting reviews of products and services I find noteworthy. Given the hectic school year I endured, I let that little side project fall off the face of the earth…that is, until I was approached by BlogHer to participate in a review campaign for the Volvo XC60. If like me, you like innovative technology and amazing safety features in a car, then you really should head over to my review blog, Jeefie’s Reviews. If you stop by, please leave a comment!
I can only assume by the underwhelming response from the last Flashback Friday edition that all three of my readers had such horrific formal dance experiences that to air them here would land them in further therapy.
I can relate one rather regrettable decision from, that’s right you guessed it, Bri’s past with regards to prom. Even though her girl bits are small enough, or at least they were at a time, she’s had a kid since then and grew a pair, she believed it necessary to restrain the girls with a touch of duct tape. While duct tape is supposedly nearly indestructible, Bri managed to tear up the dance floor enough that hers came lose requiring her to beg and beg the two male teachers guarding the door to let her leave and then re-enter prom, which is a MAJOR violation of protocol in the teacher world. I am not sure if her reenactment of her violent dance moves or screaming, “My boobs are going to fall out” convinced them to let her go, but I am guessing they didn’t want to get into the finer details of there not really being anything to fall out in her chest region! Now, I could be adding a dramatic flare to the story, but if memory serves me correctly, she also ended up with a rather nasty rash like lesion where the duct tape was applied.
I did actually get one response, from my Aunt Luann, who, bravely, wanted to submit a photo along with her response. She could not figure out how to do so…and who knows if such a thing is even possible in Wordpress, but I have decided to dedicate this week’s post to her.
The following words are her own: “So here is my response, circa 1972. That is me [Aunt Luann] and my mafia descendant bf at the time “SKEETER”. He looks like Toni Orlando and I am donning a Karen Carpenter style dress and the hair looks like I have Princess Lea (Star Wars wasn’t even out yet) things on the side. How about the color? And Skeeter is really styl’n in those white man boots.”
(Might I add that Skeeter is infamous among family lore for visiting my Aunt Luann when her parents weren’t home, which was not permissible in the Patterson home. One night Lou and Vermont came home earlier than expected so Skeeter did not have time to escape, so he decided to hide by putting a lamp shade on his head. That story may help explain those boots!)
And her is her photo submission:
Ah yes, I love the class of touch that the 3/4 length glove adds. They are particularly appropriate in the swampy like conditions of FL in the spring.
The Old World map lends a touch of worldliness, sophistication, and the exotic to what would otherwise seem like a picture taken in a dimly lit church basement. The rubber, potted trees are a nice natural element that prevents the photo from appearing to be taken on an overly styled set. I imagine the disgruntled teaching staff who had to work prom grumbling to themselves as they carried in the fake trees and looked for the best backdrop. Settling upon the map was a stroke of genius.
I was hoping beyond hope that this prom was held on a cruise ship. A quick phone call to VT confirmed my suspicions, which explains the classy decor. My experience with cruise ships extends to an ill-fated three day cruise I took many spring breaks ago; the entire ship was swathed in ghastly neon finishings circa 1980. Like so many things, the idea of a cruise ship is far better than the actual cruise ship.
The end of the school year killed me. Between grading a billion essays, reminding flunking kids to turn in assignments by the second, and dodging phone calls, emails, and surprise visits from parents who decided to get involved at the midnight hour I just couldn’t find the time to write a letter to you last month. The upside is, this month’s letter will be combined with last months for an epic tribute to you, my pretty princess.
Princess is definitely the theme of the last two months. We went from a house that only contained several dolls to one that is overflowing with all things princess.  We cannot leave the house without one in hand and quite frequently mealtime must involve at least one princess related item (cup, fork, spoon, or plate).   You have a Sleeping Beauty doll that sings when you push a button placed on the back of her neck. On a recent drive home from Scottsdale (about an hour’s drive) you pushed the button non-stop for the better part of the drive. I recently made a mistake checked out a princess cd from the library.  Anytime we went anywhere you immediately started demanding, while still being polite mind you, “Princess…please…push that” until we relented and turned on the princess music. You were really particular about which songs could be played, however, and would sit back in your little throne (car seat) and dictate which songs were permissible with a simple, “No” (as if to say that simply would not do) until we hit upon just the right tune, which invariably was either Belle’s song or Sleeping Beauty’s song. By the time the cd was due back my poor ears would bleed at the sight of the car.
The upside is that now that the cd is gone you demand that I either sing the Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty song, which is a real joy because both songs are called “Princeth Song” by you. I am generally stuck guessing and choosing one, which on your good days you tolerate and when I am done singing you just say, “More please”, which is my cue to sing the other. If your Highness is in a foul mood, then you become irritated by my course and common ways and say, “NO!” until I switch songs. I fear the day you realize I don’t actually know either song all that well and so make up my own words and , let’s be honest, tune. The iron fist will come down; things will not end well I am sure.
You are also totally into dressing up like a princess. You love to put on one of your dress up costumes, thousands of necklaces and bracelets, a princess hat, and prance around the house while us commoners (Daddy and Mommy) grovel at your feet and beg for a few hugs and kisses. Most of the time you are a merciful queen and bless us with a quick kiss or hug and little tap on the head with your wand. Recently, your Daddy’s softball team won their second straight state championship. You wore a purple princess hat and jewels to that game, which I am confident lent the appropriate amount of school spirit to spur the team onto victory!
Instilling princess like manners in you has been one of my priorities as a parent. You got the concept of please down very quickly because you realized you couldn’t have something unless you asked nicely. Thank you took a tad longer for you to adopt because why say thanks if you already have what you wanted, right? In the past two months, however, you’ve recognized the importance behind thank you and you’re welcome. Now when you ask for something you say please, thank you, and you’re welcome all at once and then grin while you wait for whatever you’ve asked for. You are so proud that you’ve beaten me or daddy to the punch!
Another new skill you’ve acquired over the last two months is counting. At 19 months you were counting to five on your own and would repeat after me to ten or twenty. Sometime around the middle of April you realized you didn’t need me anymore and took off counting to ten on your own. I was changing your diaper one night and asked you if you wanted to count; of course, being a numbers nerd, you said yes and so we began. I let you count to five on your own and just as I was about to jump in with six and help you through you said six, grinned at me, and continued counting to ten all.by. yourself! You might as well have just cured cancer; I was so proud of my smart girl! I grabbed you off the changing table and asked you to count again to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. Sure enough, you repeated the task perfectly and clapped your little hands fiercely at the end because you knew you had accomplished something amazing. Your daddy was beyond thrilled when you showed him your new talent later that night.
A few weeks after that you started counting to twenty on your own in pretty much the same manner. I started to help you after ten and you proceeded to continue counting on your own to twenty. I still have to step in from time to time with fifteen and sixteen, but you totally own the other numbers, especially 17-19 because you know that twenty is just around the bend and it seriously must be the best number to yell at the top of your lungs because you always end by yelling, “TWENTY!” Our favorite number to hear you say is thirteen because you say it, “Lurteen”, which has got to be the most adorable pronunciation I have ever heard. You count by adding a lilt to your voice at the end of each number, as if counting were really the best thing ever. I love when we are driving, walking around a store, or just playing at home and your break into spontaneous counting. And boy, do you ever enjoy poking your little finger onto things as you count them off out loud.
You’ve also mastered most of the ABC’s over the last two months. While your Grams was visiting you decided that perhaps she could be persuaded to stay longer if you proved yourself a baby genius and thus you counted to ten and then twenty and recited your ABC’s. She was, of course, more than impressed with your mental prowess. You also recite the ABC’s with a little lilt at the end of each letter and grin the entire time because you are so thrilled to know all 26 letters! We are currently working on recognizing letters, so I am anxious to see how quickly you pick this up and how interested you are in the actual letters themselves. I am assuming you will love letters, like me, because you are so infatuated with books and the words and letters on flashcards.
Your sense of humor is emerging every day. All things indicate we are going to have a little joker on our hands. You love to tease us by putting food on your fork or spoon, holding it out to us, and then putting it in your own mouth just as soon as we go to eat it.  Last month you did something that taught us we have new things to fear about just how much of the Woolsey genes and personality, particularly your Grandpa Forrest’s, you inherited. When Grandpa Forrest was little he woke up to find his mom, your Great Grandma, inspecting his bottom for worms, so he turned and said, “What are you doing back there, Nance?”, which has become a favorite family tale.
While Grams and Sir were visiting in April we all went to the Bass Pro Shop, which really means we all tagged along while Daddy lived it up amongst the other redneck fisherman, hunters, and bowsman (is that even the proper term? I pray you will never know!) Daddy dropped something he was looking at and you turned and said, “Bynan”. Daddy and I looked at each other and then Grams and Sir and we all asked, “Did she just call you Brian?” You had and proceeded to continue doing so because you knew you had done something both surprising and funny. Of course, Daddy didn’t want to leave anyone out of the fun and games so he taught you to call me “Jeefie” and also taught you Grams and Sir’s names. You think you are so clever calling us by our first names, which you don’t do all the time for you are far too crafty to make it an everyday thing. Oh no, you wait until we are scolding you and thus, shouldn’t laugh, or when we are out in public and it will have the most shock and hilarity or when Daddy is being especially naughty. Not a surprise, then, that he gets called his first name way more than anyone else does. You did take me by surprise recently and call me “Jen” while we were shopping. I looked down at you and said, “You don’t call me Jen, my name is Mommy”. Of course, anyone within earshot started laughing so you giggled and called me “Jeefie”.
Music is a huge part of your life. If you hear a catchy tune or beat you stop what you’re doing, ask, “What is that?”, and clap when the song ends. As soon as you get strapped into the car seat you start demanding music. You have preferences given the time of day and whether you are tired or not, but it must always be turned up loudly.  You’ve also begun to sing the songs instead of requesting to listen to songs or have us sing. I love to hear your sweet little voice as you sing of princesses, doggies, daddy sleeping on the couch, food, milk, and mommy. Your songs are always happy ones and always end with you applauding yourself. Yesterday you started singing, “I know you. I walked with you once upon a dream”, only your version is either, “I knowed you” or “I know a Jew”.
Some of your favorite past times are the park, playing in your sandbox, bubbles, “Pokie”, “Rosey”, “somersaults”, climbing and hanging from things, puzzles, runs, and playing in fountains. You are so busy and so full of life; you have fun wherever we are and for the most part are such a pleasant little girl to be around, Isabella. Whenever we take you somewhere that isn’t traditionally thought of us a place or event for kids I can always hear the collective groan from people who suspect you will be a little terror, and not that you cannot have your moments of total toddler meltdown, but you generally surprise even the most cynical of observers. We are constantly getting comments on how well behaved you are, how happy you are, and how relaxed you are for a little kid. I don’t know what we did to deserve your good behavior and happy go lucky demeanor, but I am so thankful you are a joy for other people to be around. I am glad that others can see the amazing little person you are!
Your vocabulary continues to grow by leaps and bounds. You are no longer satisfied with one word demands or explanations; rather, you now use words together to create mini sentences to tell us exactly what you want, how you feel, or what you are thinking. You love to recap your favorite moments of the day, week, month, or recent months when we do snuggle time at night. I love listening to you tell me about all the things and people that have made you happy. And I am always blown away when you throw in something that occurred months ago. You still bring up the zoo and seeing monkeys and giraffes with Grandma, which was a few months ago. When we drive by the zoo you start kicking your legs and naming all the animals you saw there. You also like to talk about seeing monkeys dancing with Mickey and Mini Mouse, which is your way of remembering our Disney on Ice experience. I was afraid that perhaps you were too little to even enjoy, let alone remember, going but two months later you still get so excited to bring it up.
Your amazing memory comes in handy, though. If I’ve misplaced something I can count on you to remember where it last was or to find it for me. I keep a bin full of books by the rocker so when it is snuggle time before nap or bedtime we can just grab a couple and read away. Recently you kept pointing to the bin and saying water. I thought you were asking for a drink of water by way or prolonging bedtime so I chose to ignore you, but when I went to put the books away I realized that there was a book about water buried beneath some other crap in the bin. Who knows how long that book had been there as I only recently started using the bin for our nighttime books and the water book had gone missing for at least six months. You must have put it in there when we weren’t looking and remembered its place all that time.
Around your twentieth month you started saying, “I’m gonna miss you, Mommy” while I was at work, so now part of our bedtime routine is to say, “I love you” and “I’m gonna miss you” to one another. It is the sweetest thing to see your angelic face outlined by your blond wispy hair as I bend into your crib to steal one last kiss and hear you say, “I love you, Mommy. I’m gonna miss you, Mommy”. You also love to run up and either tickle my leg or grab it and give me a squeeze while saying, “I got you, Mommy” and you do, Little. I will always be here for you to get!
Like a true princess, you’ve also learned to ask people, “How are you?” and “How do you do?” You are also a hug fan of saying, “We should try that” whenever you see something that looks interesting. Two of your favorite words of late are quesadilla and cappuccino, which, interestingly enough, you say clear as day. You really do pronounce most words either perfectly or well enough that it is obvious what you are saying. I think this is in large part due to the fact that when you are first learning a word you whisper it and practice it quietly until you are confident that you have the word right. You are relatively shy, so I think you are already aware of not wanting to mess up in front of other people. Poor girl; shyness is definitely one thing I hope you do not inherit from either mommy or daddy.
Summer vacation has hit, Isabella. I am so excited to spend two months with you!  We’ve already been busy with trips to the park, fountains, play dates, and library time. We’ve read countless books and giggled entire hours away. After a stressful school year I can think of no better way to spend a relaxing summer!
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
Pictures to follow later today; the resident tech nerd is still snoring away the morning hours. I, however, must put in a few miles before heading to curriculum writing. Someone has to work to keep the lights on around here!
A little background: Brian is very, very passionate about many, many things:Â fishing, camping, RC planes, computers, cameras, softball, soccer, anything tech related, and buying in bulk when he finds a product he likes because chances are once he purchases it the market researchers will notify companies that it is time to pull a product from the shelves.
His latest obsession is bow hunting. A former college buddy got into it a few months ago and wanted an adult companion to tag along and play Indian with. Brian, apparently, was that guy. They’ve gone out at least twice a week for the past two months to walk arduous miles in the desert and shoot their arrows at snakes, birds, rabbits, and coyotes, which to date there have been zero shot. But boy do they have fun:
I like to give Brian a hard time about turning into a redneck, but seriously I think it’s great that he has something he loves to do that not only is a way for him to relieve some stress but is also something that is fun exercise, which let’s face it, are generally not two words associated with one another!
I did, however, tell Brian I have to draw the line somewhere. If he has any crazy notions about me getting out there he’s got another thing coming. I don’t think they make ruffled camo tops. And I most certainly will not pose for any family pictures like the following:
Friday the school year officially closed with a lame staff breakfast and meeting.  I call the staff breakfast lame not because I don’t love a great breakfast buffet full of runny eggs, under ripe fruit, and floppy bacon, but rather because the school’s “social committee” charges $20.00 for the breakfast because they insist on holding it at a local country club that obviously way overcharges for the runny eggs, under ripe fruit, floppy bacon, and horrible service. In years past we have not been given our last paycheck of the year until we fork over the 20 bones, but recently, due to the inclement economy, that rule has changed: you can either pay $13 for breakfast or opt to not pay and not eat. It kills me that our household income is going to go down several thousand dollars next year due to our district’s and, in turn, the state’s inability to properly budget, but we still have this “lavish” breakfast, end of the year affair. All we need to don is some flapper attire and we are well on our way to true denial.
Clearly, that little rant aside, I am beyond thrilled at the prospect of the school year being done. This has been an especially trying year with three year long English classes, two new classes, no prep, and the neediest group of kids and parents yet. When we got home Friday I felt like I had been running a marathon for the past 36 weeks and proceeded to crash out on the couch for a few hours. I’d had enough!
So here is what the past year looked like in numbers:
Essays graded: 565
Kids who failed: 3 (out of seven classes- not too bad)
Crazy parents: 11 (the truly crazy ones)
Days absent: 4
Night with four or less hours of sleep: 10
Day begins at 4:15 a.m. : 66
B.S. budget talk via meetings and email: 20
Lunch duty: 10
Bus duty: 10
School musical: 1
Soccer game : 4
Football game: 3
Softball game: 7
Softball state championship game: 1 (Brian’s team won for the second year in a row! Go B!)
Track meet: 1
Cross country meet: 1
Soccer banquet: 1
Softball banquet: 1
Drove the school van: 1
Kids I made cry: 3
Kids who wrote me notes of heartfelt thanks: 3
Parents who wrote me notes of heartfelt thanks: 2
Starbucks gift card: 6
Barnes and Noble gift card: 1
District paid out of state trip: 1
Worthwhile professional development: 1 (out of district)
My money spent on supplies: $500
Copy machines jammed: 200 (low estimate)
Days I don’t have to worry about any of that: 60, which apparently leaves me feeling out of my mind. (You’re welcome, Bri!)
Last night, during our nighttime routine, Isabella started running down the list of all the important people in her life, as she is want to do when bedtime is drawing nigh. This is her way of asking for another hug, drink of water, or for us to check for monsters under the bed, I suppose.Â
She’s always been really interested in people’s names, but lately she has become interested in assigning people “roles” as well. She began with Becca, who is her BFF if you ask her. Isabella said, ” Becca” and then something that sounded like fun. To which I replied, “Yes, Becca is a lot of fun.” Isabella shook her head no and said, emphasizing the second word, “Becca…friend.” I agreed that yes, Becca was her friend, her very best friend. Isabella then patted my shoulder and said, “Mommy…friend”as if to reassure me that while Becca is great I am not too bad either.Â
This kid kills me with the things she just knows and the associations she makes. She could have asked me to party all night long with her after saying that and as her friend, I would have grabbed the princess costumes, turned up the music, and poured the milk.
I know that it seems that I put no real thought into these monthly letters to you as I rarely post them on time, but I really do keep meticulous track of the mental and physical leaps and bounds you take each month. In fact, to make sure I get it all down I keep not one, but two little notebooks to record noteworthy things like that fact that you can’t get enough of the slide we bought you or how after one failed attempt to get up the ladder, we showed you and the rest was history. No matter where we move it in the house you seek it out and yell out, “Slide” and demand we come watch you master the climbing and sliding part ALL BY YOURSELF! And see, that’s exactly what I am talking about in the previous 19 month letter to you; you’re just growing independent too quickly. One day it’s conquering plastic slides and the next it’s leaving for college.Â
My original point was, though, that I failed to consult the notebooks (I was feeling a tad under pressure as your twenty month letter is just around the corner) and so I fired off the last post with information filed away in my brain, which is old, decaying and full of things like Great Expectations, To Kill a Mockingbird, and the elements and principals of design right now. I thought it prudent to also mention some of the milestones I had recorded in the aforementioned notebooks as I took the time to record them there so I would remember to also record them here.
Your love for all things animals astounds me. I know your father loves animals, and by the look of you the Woolsey gene pool is strong, but I supposed, ignorantly, that my family’s intense hatred of anything animal would surely supersede. However, you are totally into dogs and have added monkeys, of all things, to the list of animals that make you practically go ape when you see or hear them. Consequently, you have received a couple stuffed monkeys: one that must be in the car at all times and the other in your crib. You love talking to your monkeys, dogs, babies, etc. and often occupy yourself on a drive or when you first wake in the morning with chatting them up. The best memory from all of this, so far anyway, is when I glanced back at you and monkey in the rear-view mirror. You were talking away to monkey, about current events to be sure, when all of the sudden you paused, looked at monkey, and then said “Please” and took the monkey’s paw, rubbed it on his chest, and then said “Please” again. You were teaching monkey the sign for please, which I took to mean that one, you are a genius and two, that monkey must have asked for something without saying please and you were setting him straight about how things work around here! You then proceeded to teach him how to sign more and thank you; two very important words in your world!
One of the words you’ve added to your vocabulary this month is “hungry”. I mention it especially for a couple key reasons. First, and foremost, like your mother you are almost always hungry, so it is significant that you can now voice exactly what you want when you want it! Secondly, you pronounce hungry as “honkey”, which slays me every time we are in a restaurant and you start talking about “honkey”. Someday you will understand the comedy in this mispronunciation!
You have also decided that certain noises are simply unacceptable parts of the world: jets, loud trucks, and the paper shredder all get to you. Your irrational fear of jets and loud trucks has waned over the last few weeks, thankfully as we live near an Air Force base and it seemed like every time we were at the park they were doing flybys. You no longer ask a thousand times over, “What is that” while hyperventilating and instead yell “Jet”! The paper shredder, however, is another story. Perhaps we don’t use it enough to get you fully accustomed to it, but whenever we do or you happen to push the button to make it run you freak out, take off running, and demand to be held until you are positive the mean, awful paper shredder is not coming for you! Of course, it just kills Daddy or me to play the hero!
Okay, so I’ve unloaded some of the guilt I was carrying around over the tardiness of this month’s post and then leaving out some memorable events.Â
So, um, yeah…here we are a few weeks after you turned nineteen months old…what can I say? This no prep, raising a toddler, teaching a new class, maintaining a house thing is catching up with me. The wheels are about to fall off the cart that is my life; thus, the delay in this month’s letter.
Each day that passes makes it glaringly clear that you are sprinting away from babyhood to well, toddlerhood, if such a word existed. You, of course, are so pleased with your burgeoning independence and the new skills you pick up every day, but it’s been a little rough on me to acknowledge that each new skill means you are a little less dependent upon me, the lady who bore you! Nothing made this more obvious to me than a recent play date with your BFF Becca. Becca’s mom and I were preparing dinner while you and Becca played in her room. All of the sudden Becca laughed and yelled, “No, Izzy!” I went running into the room to find you jumping on the bed while Becca sat giggling and clapping her hands. As soon as you saw me you stopped, grinned, and dropped to the mattress. You then said, “Back, Mommy…please.” Clearly, I was stepping on your toes and making you look bad in front of your older, cooler friend. It was a tiny, first step towards a time in your life when hanging out with your friends will be preferable to being with good old mom. I wanted to scream out, “Back, Izzy…please!”
You are such a sweet girl, Isabella. Sometimes you will stop playing, come running over, put my face between your hands, give me a GIANT kiss, and run off to play again.  One of my favorite questions to ask you is “Guess what?” to which you respond “I love Mommy.” I must ask you this question a million times a day, which I think is only fair since you must ask me “What is that?” at least a billion times a day. You are a good sport, though, and indulge me every time.
You have developed a love for all things princess, which you say with a slight, adorable lisp (”Printhess”). You have a little castle with a princess and prince that you love to play with while chanting “printhess” and “printh”. You love to make them dance and climb the stairs. There have been many near panic attacks as we prepare to leave the house because we do not have “printhess”, “printh”, and their horse. During a recent nap you took while we drove across town you yelled out in your sleep, “Printhess!” You are so obsessed that if you see your princess jammies in the drawer you want to strip down and put them on. They came with a wand and princess headband, too, so, of course, those have to be found and put on to complete your royal getup.
You have also really gotten into playing tea party, which is even more fun when you are dressed up like a “printhess”. You are so good at setting everything up, inviting us to sit (”Sit, Mommy…please.”), and pouring out the drinks. After every drink you lower your cup and say, “Mmm” and pour another round. You are truly a fabulous hostess.
You continue to amaze me with your love of numbers, letters, and words. Now when we count to ten you are not satisfied because you recently realized there are numbers past ten. If I dare to stop there you scream out “TWENTY”, which is my cue to start counting higher. Singing or saying ABC’s is another favorite past time. If you start to get a little restless when we are grocery shopping or wandering aimlessly through Target, all I have to do is suggest we say ABC’s and you settle right in for a riveting round. You love for me to say the letter first and then wait while you say the letter back with the exact same intonation. Q and R are solely yours, though. There must be some French in our ancestry because you put a perfect French accent on both letters. I love to hear those letters come out of your mouth and wish I could trick you into thinking they must be repeated several times before moving on to the S, but alas, you’ll have nothing of it and move me along by touching my face and putting your face close to mine before saying, “T” as if I am the one being taught the correct order of things.
You are a busy little girl, Isabella. You are so full of curiousity about each and every thing and person your encounter. Your little mind is a sponge, ready to soak up anything it encounters. You are constantly on the move, unless you want to read and then you’ll sit still for hours listening to the same books you’ve heard a million times over. Somehow, though, you still get sad when Oliver loses his way and you still kick your little legs when Little Wombat learns how to swim. I love the way you react to stories; you already understand that it is not merely words on a piece of paper, but that books are a way to be transported to another world where Wombats befriend Platypuses and learn to swim and little bears get lost in the woods chasing big yellow leaves. There are so many cool stories out there, Isabella. I look forward to reading them to you and someday with you!
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