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Last Updated: Nov 03, 2009
Ella welcomes Annie June! Ella Aubrey & Annie June 1/23/2004 & 3/28/09 4:21 a.m./ 12:15 pm 8 lbs. 12 oz. / 7 lbs. 5 oz Home Pictures Stories Family Guestbook |
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These days the monitor is less of a necessity and more of a pleasure. No longer do we hear crying as a signal that Ella is awake; we get babble. She sometimes gabs herself to sleep, and she starts an involved monologue almost immediately upon waking. This morning I woke Spencer by shaking our bed with my laughter because the first thing out of the monitor was Ella chirping the name of her dad's favorite football team: "Buckeyes! Bucky-eyes!" Other mornings we get Ella's "the world as I see it from my crib" speech. It goes something like this:
"What's that? Oooh. Elephant. Ffffffffffffffff. Blanket. Rabbit. Hop! Hop! (lots of nonsense syllables) Rabbit. Oops (noise of something being launched out of the crib). Where'd rabbit go?"
I love hearing Ella talk when she thinks no one is listening. And this is where my pleasure starts to feel more like a guilty pleasure. I know that eavesdropping on my 20-month-old as she falls asleep is not the same as recording her phone conversations with her boyfriend or reading her diary. But am I still violating her privacy in some small way? At what age should we pack the monitor off to the attic? I don't think that time has arrived quite yet, but I feel like it is approaching sooner than we might like. In the meantime, however, I've decided that my delight in hearing her express herself is probably okay. I'll gather this joy around myself now and store it away so I can revisit it when the conversations of the teen-aged Ella might be nothing I want to hear. ("Um, like, can I have the keys to the car? Spike and I are meeting for . . . milkshakes.") 9/18/2005 - original date of post. Parenting tip #423: To remove an entire blueberry smoothie from your child's clothing, first hose her off in the industrial kitchen sink of the establishment in which she dumped said smoothie all over herself, table, chair, and floor. Once you reach home with your wet, sad kid, soak the stained clothing in a mixture of Oxyclean and water. Finally, throw the clothes in the washer and say a little prayer to the laundry gods. Seemed to work for us. I wish I'd reviewed parenting tip #422 before this week's little smoothie incident. That tip reads, "Only idiots buy blueberry smoothies for their toddlers, much less let them hold the flimsy plastic cups themselves. Don't you know that stuff stains?" Live and learn. The fun outcome of this is that now when you ask Ella about smoothies she says, "Smoothie - Ooooh Nooooo."
A not so fun thing Ella has been saying lately is "now." Actually, she doesn't say it, she COMMANDS it. "Book NOW." "Apple NOW." We aren't finding this new verbal territory very charming. We are trying the old bait-and-switch method, hoping to get her to trade "now" for "please." It is working in most circumstances. Sometimes, however, we are less than successful. Here is a recent example.
Ella: Book-y NOW! (I could write for paragraphs on the way Ella seems to add a "y" or "ie" sound to so many words. We have always said "dog" to her, but she says "doggie." "Buckeyes" comes out "Buckie-eyes" half of the time. Cooper claws at the door to be let in, and Ella declares, "Knocky, knocky!" I always assumed kids talked like this due to being addressed in some sort of baby talk by unthinking adults, but Ella does it all on her own with no prompting from us. I'm wondering if this phenomenon has been documented among students of childhood development. But I digress.)
Mama: Can you ask nicely? Book please?
Ella: Book-y please, NOW!
Sigh. Our little tyrant. At least she is cute and darn clever. I guess if her bossing us around gets too unbearable I can always threaten her with a blueberry smoothie and a cold bath in an industrial sink. 9/14/2005 - original date of post. Whew. We made it to Missouri. Ella seems to be adjusting rapidly and well, which is more than can be said for her parents. But we are getting there. Slowly but sweatily and surely. Ella is adapting to Missouri life by expanding her vocabulary. The first week here she learned that "funder" (thunder) says, "Boom! Bang!" She has learned the names of the vegetables Grandpa Mike ("Paw-Paw," as she calls him) grows in the backyard. She says "tomato" and "cucumber," and she likes to eat the sweet cherry tomatoes right off the vine. Paw-Paw has tried to teach her how to water the plants, but she insists on repeatedly watering her shoes instead. She spots rabbits ("rabbit hop hop!") in the backyard and toads ("ribbit!) in the grass at the park. My favorite new Ella words are "hug" and "kiss," and Ella is giving and getting plenty of those from the family and friends who are making us so welcome here. Hugs and kisses to all of our loved ones! 8/7/2005 - original date of post. Ella seems to be the only one not stressed out about our upcoming move. She is enjoying pulling books off of shelves, hiding in boxes, and opening and closing drawers. Most of her toys are packed up, but she doesn't care. She is too busy dragging around the dog's leash and brandishing vacuum cleaner attachments as if they were weapons. Moving is so much work, but not for Ella. Her current work involves acquiring the English language. "Where'd the doggie go?" she asks. "One, two, three!" she shouts. She parrots almost anything we say, and she seems to comprehend more and more each day. Yes, she insists that squirrels are "doggies," and calls toothbrushes "teefies," but we still think she is a little genius. So we'll keep packing boxes, and Ella will keep packing her brain. See you in Missouri! 7/25/2005 - original date of post. Some people like to start their mornings by going for a brisk jog. Others make a ritual of walking to the corner coffee shop for a latte and a newspaper. I myself enjoy using a warm washcloth to wipe the crusted snot out of my daughter's eyebrows. Oh, wait. No I don't. The list of "things I didn't sign up for" is very long when you are a parent. Dealing with various bodily fluids, rocking a flailing and wailing body at 3:00 a.m., explaining for the hundredth time why one does not get to stand up on the coffee table - these are just a few of the not-so-joyous moments of parenthood. Another is the phenomenon of attending a party without really attending a party. Last night we went to a friend's birthday gathering, and I had exactly one half of an adult conversation the entire hour and a half we were there. The rest of the time I spent following Ella up and down stairs and around and around the path that wandered through our friend's garden. I had to quiz Spencer on the way home: "And how is Lisa? Kristen and the baby? How is George feeling?" At least I got to drink a glass of champagne while making sure Ella didn't eat too much dirt or break any valuables. But you know what I'm going to say next. Just when I think my head will explode if I have to play "Now you hand me all the crayons, and then I'll hand you all of the crayons" one more time, the baby looks up, pats my sternum, grins and declares, "MAMA!" These are the moments that make my heart threaten to burst right out of my chest. Yes, there are more greasy fingerprints and poop and mucous than I ever could imagine, but there is also more love. (Click on the pictures link to see all of the new pictures. Please note that my posting of new stories and pictures will be sporadic over the next month or so as we pack up our lives and every last scrap of our belongings and move them to Missouri. Thanks for your patience. - The Management) 7/11/2005 - original date of post. How did this happen? In the middle of the night someone stole away my little baby and left in her place this toddler with scraped knees and bruised shins. Ella is such a little kid. She can open drawers and gleefully empty their contents. She can kick a ball. She loves to stumble around the park, shrieking and climbing on the slide or demanding to swing. She can grab your hand and insist that you do a little interpretive dance to whatever happens to be pouring out of the radio. She even tries to have conversations. In the bath this past week she pulled the knob that redirects the water from the faucet to the showerhead. As that cool water poured down on her for the few surprising seconds it took me to turn off the shower, she gasped these little shocked inhales and looked on the verge of tears. Instead of a meltdown, however, I was treated to a sad recounting in Ella-speak of what had just happened to her. She gestured upward. "Water," she said mournfully. Her bottom lip quivered. "Hair." She patted her soaked head. "Yes, you pulled the knob and water came out of the shower and got your head wet. I'm sorry it surprised you. Was it cold?" I asked. "Water," she repeated. And then she patted her head once more before splashing around to see where her rubber duck had gone to. Every parent says it - kids grow up so fast. And somehow becoming parents has made us a little homesick for our own parents. Spencer and I want our kid to grow up near the love and support of her family. In a month's time we will make the journey back to Missouri. We're so sad to leave the dear friends we have made here, and we'll miss the natural beauty that is specific to this place. But Ella's presence in our lives has changed our priorities. Family comes first. As Ella says, "Mama. Daddy. Baby!" Wise beyond her years, this kiddo. She really is getting so big. 7/4/2005 - original date of post. I've learned that a parent's main job is to worry. Ever since I saw those two pink lines on the home pregnancy test, all other emotions - joy, anticipation, deep love - have been tinged with anxiety. The horrid yet somehow universally recommended book What to Expect When You're Expecting spends the first several hundred pages listing all of the various diseases and defects your unborn child could have. This tome of negativity makes you feel like if you eat a doughnut for breakfast instead of bran flakes your child surely will be born with two heads. Once the baby is born and - rejoice! - has the normal number of appendages in spite of your Ben and Jerry's binges of the previous 9 months, the other worries begin. The immediate worries have to do with whether the baby is eating enough, pooping enough, sleeping enough, sleeping too much. Is she hitting her developmental milestones on time? How come everyone else her age seems to be able to roll over, but she is still on her back waving her arms around in the air like a turtle stranded on its shell? Then there are the future worries. Will she get picked on by the mean popular girls in junior high or - even worse - be one of those mean girls? And when everything is clicking - the baby is eating well, sleeping well, walking and talking and so happy - your brain manufactures things to worry about. Especially if you happen to be slightly neurotic and a wee bit of a hypochondriac. Like me, for instance. Ella's mysterious (to her parents, anyway) repetitive play lately has me anxious. She gets stuck in what Spencer calls "feedback loops" where she will do the same action over and over again. At the zoo she marches up and down the walkway in front of the fish exhibit, striding past the salmon and trout to the exit, then she turns around and marches back past the fish to visit the turtles. Then she completes this circuit again. And again. At home she lines up shoes or empty thread spools at one end of the room then carries them one at a time to the other end of the room and lines them up again. And again. And again. Scary words like "autistic" float into my head. I get online and do a Google search on obsessive compulsive disorder. My logical self knows that Ella's play is normal, that this kid is as smart as a whip. She knows so many words that I've lost count. She recognizes people and shapes (and the Starbucks logo, much to my embarrassment - "Coffee!" she shouts from the backseat as we pass by a billboard extolling the virtues of mocha Frappuccinos). She can show me her teeth, tongue, belly, eyes, and many other body parts. She can feed herself with a spoon or a fork. But still my mind goes to these dark places and frets that something awful is lurking around the corner in the form of an accident or a disease. I lecture myself not to waste time on worry and instead to enjoy this amazing time in Ella's life. I send up little prayers like balloons. Let my kid be okay. Let her be happy. And really I am so thankful for every day that she is okay and happy. My gratitude outweighs my worry. It's the 4th of July, but around here it feels like Thanksgiving. 6/29/2005 - original date of post. Ella the brave finally ventured into the fountain! Our farmer's market trips usually conclude with a visit to the fountain in the park adjacent to the market area. For weeks Ella has watched intently as other children dart in and out of the cool spray. This past weekend Ella decided to move beyond her usual loud squealing and lecturing of the water from a safe distance. She swatted at the individual fountains of water, she stuck out her tongue and tried to drink the water, and she wound up soaked through to her diaper. She also howled in protest when we finally dragged her away, but it was nothing the distraction of a couple of pea pods couldn't cure. Serving as witnesses for this feat of fountain daring were Uncle Sam and soon-to-be Aunt Allison who were visiting from Missouri. Ella played tour guide, showing them the test rose garden in Washington Park, the Japanese garden, Tom McCall Waterfront Park, and several Willamette Valley vineyards (don't worry - Ella was our designated driver). 6/19/05 - original date of post. "You're a father!" I said to Spencer this morning, amazement in my voice. He laughed as if to say, "I know - it's crazy to me too." I have a hard time with the fact that we are adults, much less parents. I look at Ella and wonder, "Where did she come from?" Before you launch into the "when a mommy loves a daddy very much" speech, let me assure you that I understand in biological terms where she came from. There is a line in the lullaby "The Cradle Song" that goes, "Who is this a-lying here, gently at the door to my heart?" That's how I feel. I am having trouble reconciling the fascinating little person currently living in this house with the baby I gave birth to almost 17 months ago. How did she become this kiddo with opinions and preferences, this Ella who shuns cake but can't get enough pickles and ice, this girl who is totally into all things with wings, particularly butterflies and airplanes? Ella isn't the only one undergoing transformations. I love the father Spencer has become. It will surprise no one that he is spontaneous and playful with Ella, chasing her around the house with his tickling fingers outstretched, Ella shrieking and laughing in mock terror and genuine delight. But he is also patient and tender beyond measure. Early this morning Ella woke crying, and she wasn't settling herself back down. I grumpily sat up, prepared to trudge to her room when Spencer said, "I'll go." "But it's father's day," I protested. "That doesn't mean I stop being a father," he answered, and he got up to change Ella's very wet diaper and rock her back to sleep. At the zoo today we saw several men sporting "World's Best Dad" t-shirts. Spencer doesn't need a shirt. Ella's joyful spirit, her curiosity, and the way she moves through the world are all evidence of what an incredible father he is. Happy father's day, my love! 6/13/05 - original date of post. Howdy, ya'll! Ella has now charmed the pants off of the Lone Star State. Despite a ridiculous travel schedule that began with a red-eye flight from Portland and included car trips from Houston to Wimberley to Austin to San Antonio and back to Houston, Ella managed to be her cheery, delightful self. She had her first swimming experience (Ella rating: a big thumbs up), her first taste of Texas barbeque (Ella rating: better than potatoes, not as good as broccoli), learned to back her way down the stairs (I laughed! I cried! It was better than Cats!), and added new words like "airplane" and "bubbles" (pronounced "buffles" for some reason) to her vocabulary. She also met many aunts, uncles, and cousins, and she just loved them all. We could tell by her enthusiastic squawking and wild arm gestures. We now need a vacation to recover from our vacation. Click the pictures link to see more from our whirlwind Texas tour. Y'all enjoy now, ya hear? 6/5/2005 - original date of post. This week's entry is going to be brief (but I've posted six pictures to make up for that - be sure to click on the pictures link to see them all). I'm acting as a single mama right now, so my computer time is short. Spencer is in Houston for a bachelor party weekend celebrating his best friend from high school, so I am the solo Ella wrangler for a few days. I have new respect for all single parents out there - hats off to you! Over the past two days I have: vacuumed an entire house with a child attached to my body via sling (a good alternative aerobic workout for those of us who don't have time to go to the gym); pushed a baby jogger and dragged a dog all over the neighborhood; grabbed two-minute showers (singing the "Itsy-Bitsy Spider" the whole time to reassure Ella that I was still there even though hidden by the shower curtain) while the kiddo supervised from her high chair perch in the bathroom doorway; moved in slow motion to and from every destination because Ella wants to walk on her own, and it takes about 10 of her steps to match one of mine; bounced, sung, hung the baby upside down, and performed any other number of tricks to keep her from melting down or gleefully emptying the candy rack in the grocery store check out line; and collected twice my share of Ella hugs, kisses, laughs, pats, and heart-melting grins, which has of course made the work of the weekend worth it. Hurry home, daddy! We miss you. 5/30/2005 - original date of post. I've spent the weekend getting ahead of myself. I've been reading Growing Up Girls: Popular Culture and the Construction of Identity, and suddenly I feel like Ella's adolescence is hurtling towards me like a speeding train. I feel so disheartened by the way assertive, self-confident, vocal girls seem to hit 12 or 13 and lose themselves to the culturally constructed version of femaleness as marketed to them by the likes of Seventeen Magazine. The pressure to be unrealistically thin, the obsessive focus on the right clothes and makeup to win the attention of the opposite sex, the encouragement to be compliant and silent rather than competitive and outspoken - these are the things I fear for Ella. I know I can't shield her from the world, but I want to give her the tools for negotiating the messages she gets from the world around her, to help her develop the ability to examine and deconstruct popular culture. I want her to question what she is being sold and why. Of course, while I'm reading essays like "Identity by Design: the Corporate Construction of Teen Romance Novels," Ella is turning the pages of Maisy Takes a Bath. I'm concerned about her body image, and she's just now learning that she has a body and that bits of it have their very own labels. "Feet! Feet!" she kept telling me as I rocked her this evening before bed. She also gave me a tour of her head from her mouth ("mowf") to her hair. I guess it is a little early to be worried that she'll develop an eating disorder in pursuit of the waifish super-model look. But I don't think it is too early to try to help her feel comfortable in her own skin, to find her voice and use it. Keep dancing, Ella. Keep talking. 5/22/05 - original date of post. We used to tease Ella's Uncle Marty about his beige-food-only diet - you know, pasta, powdered potatoes, casserole, and the like. Ella seems to share Marty's monochromatic tendencies and is leaning towards green food recently. Last night's dinner is an excellent example. She shunned her turkey burger and roasted potatoes (even after we dipped them in ketchup at Spencer's insistence that she is genetically programmed to love that particular condiment). Instead she ate avocado, several stalks of grilled asparagus, and a single sugar snap pea pod. Good thing the farmer's market is in full swing so we can feed Ella's demand for fresh veggies of her preferred color. We are also lucky that the weather is turning more spring-like so that we can meet Ella's demands of "Walk! Walk!" with trips to places more interesting than the guest bedroom or mom and dad's clothes closet. We let her toddle around the market in her moccasin-style shoes yesterday, but we realize it is time to get her some real outdoor shoes so we can let her walk around the park, the zoo, and the yard without worrying about her bruising her little feet on sticks or rocks. Over the past week her solo walks have begun to outnumber her parent-assisted walks by a whole heck of a lot. Her balance improves every day. Just this morning she stayed steady while a swarm of three dogs pushed past her, giving her ears some good licks in passing. A small piece of me is sad to see her shedding her babyhood so quickly, but mostly I love being a witness to the amazing process of her becoming her own person. UPDATE: We just returned from the mall, new shoes in hand. Well, new shoes on feet is more accurate. Ella wore them out of the store and wobbled around for a good half an hour getting used to the weight on her feet. There are six new pictures this week, so be sure to click the pictures link to see them all. 5/15/05 - original date of post. "Walk!" has replaced "Up! Up!" as Ella's favorite demand. And for now, I am delighted. This change means I get to hold my daughter's hand. I know that other mothers talk about a child doing something dear while nursing like wrapping her little fist around mama's thumb, but Ella isn't one of those kiddos. Her hand flutters around like a bird trying to find a place to land. If I try to hold it, she snatches it away. But yesterday she accidentally stumbled upon the realization that if she holds on to a big person's hand while she tries to walk, she can stay upright indefinitely. Consequently we spent the day doing laps around the house, hand-in-hand like sweethearts. And what a sweetheart she is! A funny sweetheart. We had our first "baby art" class at the community center this past week. While I dreamed of having Ella art to hang on the fridge, Ella had other plans. She turned up her nose at the crayons, the pudding painting, and the kids stringing Fruitloops onto ribbon to make necklaces. Instead she developed a little crush on the cookie cutters (meant to be used to cut shapes out of Jell-O) and spent the entire 30 minutes threading them onto her arm as if they were bracelets, removing them, and then donning them once again. Oh, well. At least she enjoyed herself. 5/9/05 - original date of post. The staircase from the main level to the second floor is Ella's Mt. Everest, sippy cups littered at its bottom like so many empty oxygen containers. After several failed attempts to summit, Ella squawking all of the way back down to base camp, she finally made it to the top. Spencer and I acted as her Sherpas of course. And Sherpas we will be for some time, it seems. She now wants to climb the stairs over and over - "Up! Up!" she insists - clapping and cheering for herself each time she reaches the top. Someday my friend Tonya is going to write the multi-volume work, The Sh** They Don't Tell You: Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Parenting. She should dedicate a chapter to the mindless repetition that comes with having children. Let's sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," shall we? Once not enough? How about 37 encores? And I expect that soon the requests for the same bedtime story night after night will begin. But right now it is this crawling up the stairs, a triumphant celebration at the top, and then being carried to the bottom to start the whole journey over again. So, I wasn't prepared for the tedium that sometimes comes with this parenting thing. But I also wasn't prepared for how fiercely you can love another human being. I watch Ella cheerfully stumble about, lecturing the dog and furniture and light fixtures in what sounds like a cross between Japanese and Navajo, and I know that I would gladly scale the real Everest if she needed me to. She's carrying my heart around in her little fist, this Ella. Happy mother's day, everyone. 5/2/05 - original date of post. The adults in the house have the barfing flu, so Ella is updating the site herself. Enjoy, and wash your hands after visiting! Hello. Hi! Daddy no. No-no mama. Dog, wuf! Cow, moo. Loud. Outside? Outside? Baby. Nurse nurse? Eat. Water. Nose, mouth. This? Pop? Up! Bath. Quack-quack. Book. Bye-bye! 4/25/05 - original date of post. As I load up a few new pictures to this web site, Ella is flip-flopping around in her crib. The sensitivity of the baby monitor makes it sound like she is waving around giant banners of tin foil or unwrapping 100 peppermint candies all at once instead of merely crawling across the mattress. She'll be quiet for a minute or two, and I'll breathe a sigh of relief thinking that she's finally drifted off to sleep. Suddenly I'll hear an insistent "Elmo!" or a string of incomprehensible syllables, and I'll start doing my naptime voodoo all over again. (Mostly things like "come on, baby, you're so sleepy," and "shh-shh-shh," muttered under my breath. Sometimes I even cross my fingers.) Ella is fighting sleep again. Getting her down for naps and her bedtime sleep seem to take forever these days. The time change a few weeks back seemed to screw things up, and I'm sure our brief visit to the Central time zone didn't help matters. I also think that the world is just too darn interesting. There are crayons and dominoes to be tasted, flowers to see, skills to master, and parents to be lectured. (Much of her "talking" these days sounds very, very bossy - hmm . . . wonder where that comes from?) She has been quiet for a minute now. Is she really napping? Oh, no! Here comes the garbage truck rumbling up the street. And there goes Ella, complaining about the noise. And here goes mama, back up the stairs to try to settle the baby down. Wish me luck . . . 4/19/05 - original date of post. Tips for traveling with a 14-month-old (gleaned from this past weekend's whirlwind - emphasis on the whirl - trip to Missouri): 1. Travel during the baby's regular sleeping or napping times. This works wonderfully. Except when it doesn't. On our return trip, which left Kansas City at 8:45 p.m., Ella slept like an angel most of the flight, but on the way to KC (which was during Ella's morning nap time), Ella flipped, flopped, fussed, tried to dive out of my lap, and basically climbed me like a jungle gym for three hours. 2. Repeat, repeat, repeat. When the baby won't sleep, endless rounds of "The Wheels on the Bus" or "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" seem to keep her entertained, as does opening and closing the airplane window shade 87,000 times. 3. Eat, eat, eat. Have a steady supply of quartered grapes, steamed brocoli, and - of course - Cheerios to hand into the back seat during a long car drive. When that doesn't work, see tip number 2. ("Oh, the itsy, bitsy spider crawled up the water spout . . .") Ella and I had a wonderful time on our too-short trip. We missed Spencer, and we're a little tired, but seeing family and dear friends was completely worth it. 4/10/05 - original date of post. I think aliens sometimes abduct Ella in the wee hours and leave us with a shrieking, moaning, wailing, inconsolable, bizzaro version of our baby. Last night she spent midnight to 2:00 a.m. either crying in her crib with one of us trying to get her to lie down or being rocked while periodically heaving one of those shuddery "I've been crying too hard" sighs. This morning our Ella was back, jolly and chirping, "Dog! Ear! Daddy!" from her crib. She does have a gigantic molar erupting from her gums (this is the top left first molar - apparently the rest of her bottom teeth are just way too cozy in their gummy homes to make an appearance), but who really knows what is causing these sudden middle-of-the-night sob-fests.
Throughout the day Ella continued to be delightful. We took advantage of the partly cloudy forecast and headed to the zoo so she could visit her favorite animals. She babbled at ducks, waved at peacocks, tried to grab at the fish through the plexiglass, and seemed totally awestruck by the sea lions as they glided in slow circles underwater. Click the pictures link to see photos of our field trip.
4/3/2005 - original date of post. We need an Ella-to-English dictionary. If anyone knows the meaning of "doo-doo" or "wee-wee" (said farily emphatically while gesturing towards anything from a tupperware of Cheerios to a framed family portrait), let us know. In the meantime, I feel kind of sorry for Ella. We just parrot these sounds back to her in a lame sort of way, trying to be encouraging but mostly feeling puzzled. For the sake of example, let's say that in Ella speak "doo-doo" means, "please tell me what that is." Ella says to us, "please tell me what that is," and we respond, "Hmm, really? Yes? Please tell me what that is? Please tell me what that is?" Not so very helpful. Again, I imagine much eye rolling and Ella thinking, "these big people are nice, but they are sort of stupid."
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