Missing the point

So, we've reached that time where we're trying to teach Abby to talk.

We will do what undoubtedly irritates any non-parents in the vicinity and will say, "Abby! Say, 'kitty'" Her response is, "Kuh". Well, that's close enough.

My mission is to get Abby to say "Dada" when pointing at Tom. Tom is not compliant.

Every time I point to her and say, "Who's this?" She pauses for two seconds and then Tom screams, "Daddy!"

NO. We are teaching HER that you are Daddy. Therefore, she has to figure it out and she needs more than .2 seconds.

Me: "Abby ... say, 'Dada'."

Tom: "Daddy!"

Me: (pointing at Tom) "Who's this?"

Tom: "Say, 'Mama'!"

So, we are working in tandem on Abby learning to talk and Tom learning how to teach Abby to talk.

For the time being, we can rest assured that Tom, in fact, knows how to say "Daddy."

Abby's first word

Is Bert.

As in, Bert and Ernie. From Sesame Street.

Not "hi"; not "Dada" ... Bert.

I love my child.

Milestones and what I actually want to talk about

Okay, so my daughter took steps today. I'm so excited about it. But, really, what else is there to say? She took steps. Yay! Let's move on.

So, I became "that mother" yesterday when I went grocery shopping with Abby. I forgot to pack mum mums and puffs and, by the time we hit the check-out line, she was fussing up a storm due to hunger.

Well, I had bought her Gerber biscuits ... they were sitting right there in my cart ... yeah, I opened them. And gave her one. The shame I felt.

I have always thought of people who open food items in the check-out line to be insanely tacky. I suppose I still think that way. But I became one of them. I just figured it'd be better off letting her chomp on something I was about to purchase (and not disturb people in the meantime) than scream. Oh well.

Let's just check it off the list of things I thought I would never do.

Where's Waldo a la Abby

I've heard many a parent say, "We don't need any toys - we have TOO MANY toys!"

I am nowhere close to that point.

I don't know if it's because I am enjoying the reliving of my youth or if it's because watching her play with and discover new toys is so awesome, but I love it.

Granted, we could probably get better use out of our toys if someone ::ahemTom:: didn't put every. single. toy. we own into Abby's pen at the same time.

I swear, this morning it would have been a Where's Waldo situation trying to find Abby amidst all the toys.

Me (frantically putting toys in the toy box): "You should probably stagger the use of these toys and not put all of them in the pen at once."

Tom: "Why?"

Me: "Because."

Tom: "You're in a bad mood this morning."

He may have had a point.

Well ... ABBY slept through the night ...

Our daughter slept all night. Amazing. I can honestly say I don't think I've gotten six consecutive hours of sleep in a year.

Though, in the midst of that awesomeness, Tom had to wake me up to ask me if Abby was, in fact, sleeping through the night.

"Psst."

"What?"

"Have you gotten up?"

"No."

"Not at all?"

"No."

"She's been sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Do you think she's okay?"

"Yes."

So, our daughter slept through the night.

My husband did not.

Thunderstorms, oh my!

It's fitting that my daughter sleeps through storms (I once slept through an entire ambulance crew trekking through the bungalow I grew up in).

We have had some major ones this past week and Abby has slept through them with flying colors. Luke, on the other hand (or the other paw?), has not.

In fact, it got so bad one night, that Tom came downstairs to lay with Luke on the couch. I love the fact that this happened because Tom likes to pretend he doesn't like the kitties. Well, you don't leave your bed to comfort a cat if you don't like said cat.

The best part about this is that Leia is a total bad-ass. I walked out of our bedroom one night and Leia was just lounging on the cat tree as the thunder boomed. Then I made it downstairs and Luke was approximately 1 cm off the ground, clinging to my leg as if his life depended on it.

Hoping the weather is calmer this week. Our sleep depends on it.

My kid pooped in the bathtub

Yep. I was hoping we'd avoid it. But it happened.

I could tell she was going for it, but hoped she would ultimately recognize the bath tub was NOT a place for pooping. I figure most kids her age have that kind of reason. Right?

Well, she didn't.

She acted like she was going, but all we got were bubbles. Okay. I figure that was it. Just a scare.

After she did it again, I decided I needed to finish the bath and get this kid in a diaper. I lifted her to wash her hair when I saw it.

Unfortunately for Daddy, he cleaned the tub. Such a wonderful guy to take the sh!tty job. Get it?

This will make the baby book.