One Year Older and Wiser Too

Now that I'm one year-old my mommy and daddy are happy they don't have to buy me formula anymore. I don't miss it too much because I like the whole milk they give me now. The first day on whole milk I had heinous gas, however, which stunk my mommy and daddy (and my grandma and grandpa who were visiting me from Oregon) out of the house.

Yesterday I had my first real "play date" but since that is one of the baby phrases my mommy hates I'm supposed to say "hang out" from now on. I loved it and was really sad when my friend had to go home. We played with my toys and went out for dinner. He didn't like it so much that I was making a mess on the floor of the restaurant and kept tattling to his Auntie (my mommy's friend) on me. I thought he was lame for tattling on me but my mommy said to forgive him because it's important to get along. I took him to see my Grandpa Con's cows after that and we had goldfish crackers for a snack. Then I took him for a walk, except I got frustrated because he can walk a whole lot faster than I can crawl.

Now that I'm eating regular food I miss my baby food a lot so my mommy gives it to me for a treat or when I am sad or hurt. This morning I had a bloody mouth when she came to get me from my crib because I fell against the rails; but I'm not telling my mommy for sure what really happened since she took so long to come and comfort me. She was really upset about it, and so was I. After I stopped crying I told her that she needs to calm down if she is going to help me survive the next 17 or so years of my life and that sometimes baby's get hurt when they are learning new things. So she gave me baby food all day to give my sore mouth a break.

This month I have learned many new things including saying "moo" for cows, "pop-pop" for grandpa (my Grandpa Randy taught me this one), "button", "uh-oh", and "bye-bye". I have approximately a 12 word vocabulary in all. I've also learned how to get into all sorts of things like cupboards and drawers. Where I really want into is the oven and the toilet and my mommy keeps saying, "No! No!" Unfortunately for my mommy I think "No!" means to do it more and so I do, while laughing hysterically. I've also learned to climb stairs, stand up for a long time, walk around furniture, get into the heater vents, and pound on assorted appliances, furniture, and windows.

The pediatrician said I get an A+ in development and he thinks it is funny that I chatter so much. My mommy and daddy didn't tell the doctor that I just barely started crawling, however. I told them that was a lie by omission and my mommy and daddy pretended they didn't hear me. I weighed in at the 80th percentile mark, my height is in the 5oth percentile. I am still chubby, which makes my mommy's biceps burn.

I still love my kitty a lot but my mommy tells me to leave her alone and she tells the kitty to leave me alone. Neither of us obey and so we both end up getting hurt sometimes. My mommy says the kitty is teasing me and one time she even bit me. I "meow" at her and wave at her and go crawling after her until my mommy has had enough and physically separates us. I tell my mommy she better get used to dealing with us because if I get my wish I will get a brother or sister someday and the trouble I get into with the kitty is just giving her practice for dealing with two kids.*

*My mommy commanded me to say that the above paragraph is in no way an announcement of any sort.

I love my new toys I got for my birthday. I got a Little People Barn from my Grandma Debi and Grandpa Randy. I got an outside swing from my Grandma Jeri and Grandpa Con. I got a 4-wheeling backhoe I can sit on from my Grandpa Ray. I got a clothes and bath toys from my Grandma Beth. I got Eric Carle's "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" 40 year special edition (which is a pop-up book, my favorite) from my Great Grandma Beverly. I got many toys and clothes from my mommy and daddy, including an outside water and sand station. My mommy says I might have to wait until next year to play with it but she doesn't know how big of fit I can actually throw.

My favorite thing from my mommy was the Hippo cake she made. I know I keep saying it but she is a genius...In reality the internet makes her look smarter and more talented than she really is.

The coolest part of turning one was how so many people came to celebrate with me. My Harris family members traveled from Tooele (Utah, approx. 80 miles away), my Grandma Debi and Grandpa Randy traveled all the way from Oregon, and my Wilcox family walked from next door. My mommy's friends brought their nephews which made me really happy too.

While my Grandma Debi and my Grandpa Randy were here I tried to make them feel welcome by taking them out to breakfast which turned out to be free because it took longer than the promised ten minutes. My mommy demanded that my daddy offer to pay but the waiter insisted that it was on the house. Then I took them to the Beehive House at Temple Square. I think they liked it but I DID NOT. It was too prim and proper for my taste and plus, when I was hanging with Brother Brigham last year (just before I was born) he said that Heaven is much nicer and you don't have to worry about NO TOUCHING PLEASE. Then I took my Grandma Debi and Grandpa Randy to get their pictures taken with me. I was such a good boy the photographers were sad to see me go. I took them to Antelope Island (Syracuse, UT) on Sunday but unfortunately it was windy, rainy, and cold. I did get to ring some bells and ride in some saddles at the ranch there, however. We also saw buffalo and antelope. I was sad when they left because my mommy is much nicer when company is around. She told me to erase that last sentence and so I pretended to and then typed it again when she stopped looking.

I still love going outside, taking a bath, going shopping and running errands, riding in the jogging stroller when the weather is nice, playing with any kids I can find, helping my mommy do laundry, going to the gym, and reading books. My favorite food is goldfish crackers--which my mommy insists on buying in whole grain--and oranges (if we're not considering baby food). My favorite time of day is nighttime, my mommy calls me a night owl like my daddy. I still love my spit rag and I still hate church.

I no longer go to the babysitter's because my mommy is convinced her three year-old son was being too rough with me. I told her to chill but she didn't and now my mommy and daddy just work out their schedules so one of them is always home with me. My mommy is sad to see my daddy less but I think my daddy enjoys the break from my mommy.

My mommy is worried I'm going to get an attachment disorder when she leaves for Maui, Hawaii for a whole week this Thursday. My daddy is going to take care of me all week which my mommy says will take her a whole month to break me from all of the bad habits I will acquire. My daddy just rolls his eyes (see what I mean by enjoying the break from her?). My daddy said he will teach my mommy how to use her web cam to talk to me everyday which made her feel a little bit better. My mommy has been working very hard to get her body beach ready and let's just say she has failed miserably but thank goodness for stylish board shorts and surf/swim shirts.

My current favorite songs are: Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You," TI & JT's "Dead and Gone," Taylor Swift's "White Horse," and Dierks Bentley's "What Was I Thinkin?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HIPPO!!!!!!!!

YOU HAVE MADE EVERY DAY THE HAPPIEST OF OUR LIVES.

As...

...I climb the stairs to lay you in your crib for the night I wonder how old you will be when you stop looking at me like that, like I am the most important thing in your world.

...you climb over me when I am folding laundry I wonder when you will stop wanting to touch me, or me to touch you.

...we fight over mealtime I think how much I cannot wait until you have a favorite food and I will make it for you.

...I read to you each night and listen to your contented sights I cannot help but read to you one more story and then another and then another.

...you are extraordinarily rowdy each week at church I wonder if, when you are old enough, you will always want to go to church.

...we shop together I smile when I think about how you have become my favorite shopping partner.

...I watch you explore every inch of the house, aiming for things you know I do not want you to touch, I wonder how many other things you will do that I do not want you to do in the next fifty or so years.  

...you make friends everywhere we go I notice how much you are like your daddy.

...we drive various places I am thankful you enjoy a car ride listening to anything I choose including Eragon (which we started just before you were born and finished in the hospital), rock, hip hop, or alternative.

...I hold you on the few occasions you snuggle I wish those moments will last forever.

...you tell me off in baby gibberish I wonder where in the he-- you learned that.

...we share our inside jokes (like peek-a-boo cheating, Where The Wild Things Are, and laughing hysterically over "fat face") I hope we will always be able to share a laugh.

...I see you chasing the kitty I hope she outruns you and you don't get hurt; how many times will I hope the same thing in the future?

...you refuse to feed yourself your bottle I am honored you choose to spend ten minutes four times a day being close to your mommy.  And how that is more important to you than your independence makes me realize I have embarked upon the most meaningful work of my life.

...we share a love for being outside I am curious what other things we might have in common in the future.

...I reflect upon the past year of your, and my, life I marvel.

Big Announcement

Drum Roll please.............................................................................





The Ogden Half Marathon is full!

And I haven't yet signed up!

WOO-HOO!

I knew if I was ambivalent long enough (about participating) I may get lucky. Even better than not feeling the pressure to find time to train adequately each week is to know that since I can't participate I can work out (or not work out) at my leisure.

(Is that an oxymoron?)

That didn't stop me from feeling overwhelmingly discouraged by this morning's series of events, however. It's like the Karmic Universe is now conspiring against me since I have proven to be spineless in the face of a physical challenge (a reference to the fact that I did not participate in the Ogden 2007 full marathon).

Bonus Points: If you caught me taking full responsibility

I ate well yesterday and went to bed early last night in preparation for a six-miler this morning. Since the weather is good and due to the fact L worked a graveyard I'd be running outside pushing Hippo. I strategically ate this morning in addition to getting Hippo up and fed allowing myself just enough time to run the course and get home before he got too hungry to manage himself.

Doesn't it sound like I was dedicated?

I knew the jogging stroller had one bum tire and L, before getting into bed told me he has this goo stuff I can use to seal up the tire and so I won't have to constantly stop and pump it up, like I had to last Saturday on the four-miler.

I got myself dressed in my outside cold weather running get-up, got Hippo in his warm outfit, loaded him into the stroller, grabbed my IPOD off the charger, put on my Spy glasses, and off we...

did not go.

I couldn't figure out the goo instructions. I'm no genius, and the goo is meant to be used by Mensa Society members only, apparently.

I decided, in my dedication, I would just stop periodically and pump. No biggie, really. Plus, it would give me a chance to take breaks that otherwise I can't justify. And off we finally went.

About a mile and a half later not just the one tire, but two tires needed to be pumped. I began the process but I could hear that the air wasn't being delivered to the tire and was escaping into the greater ozone. A bad seal on the air spout? I pulled off the pump connector and much to my dismay, the hose disconnected from the connector (which remained on the air spout). IT BROKE! THE PUMP BROKE! And there I was, with Hippo, only 1/6th of the way through the course, but pretty far from home still, with two (of three) flat jogging stroller tires and a broken tire pump.

At first I laughed a little, thinking about how much trouble I had already gone through to get to this point.

***A moment to add an important tidbit to why I was so motivated even though I will not be running a half marathon in May afterall. At book club Tuesday night, my marathon training partner informed me that she ran a six-miler last Saturday (while I was considering calling 9-1-1 on my four-miler). The kicker: she had a baby six weeks ago. This was discouraging/motivating since I had a baby six months, times two, ago. When she saw that I was discouraged she said, "It wasn't a fast six." to make me feel better. She's sweet like that, but it didn't make me feel ANY better.***

As circumstances would have it, it was a good thing I was standing across the street from a retail giant!

On the other hand, I had no money or credit cards.

I stood there seriously considering employing the bumming-money-off-of-poor-suckers-skills I have learned from addicts:
"I've run out of gas and I have to get to Salt Lake City for my brother's funeral/graduation/birthday by noon."

Or

"I'm from Wyoming and my car broke down and can't be fixed until Monday, please spare some money for a hotel."

Or

"My wallet/purse was just stolen and I can't pay for the groceries for my poor little children."

Or

"Just a few dollars for my starving dog?"

Realizing I have a conscience, I went with plan B. Slowly pushing (i.e. walking) Hippo and the stroller home and with each step, to the lopsided sound of thump-thump, I got more and more frustrated.

I had really, really tried.

By the time I rounded the corner, for the final stretch, I had two ideas to spare my workout: I could jump in the car and finish the last three miles on the treadmill at the gym OR I could call on my in-laws to watch Hippo while I ran the final three miles in the neighborhood. Darting inside I grabbed the flier with the gym's daycare hours listed: Saturdays--8:45 am to 11:30 am. Drat, it was 11:02 am--and let's just say I run a longer mile than a ten minute one.

So I grabbed Hippo out of the stroller and ran over to the in-laws (that's right, they live next door...you can save the "Everybody Loves Raymond" jokes) and knocked. No answer. I did the unforgivable. I walked right in.

Don't worry, no one was naked this time (If you really want that story I'll blog about it some other time).

No one was home. There are four willing babysitters over there and not one was home. NOT ONE.

By that time my heart rate was back to normal and I threw in the towel.

Maybe I should've committed to the half.

Anecdotal Therapeutic Thursday: "Cluck You"

Without saying too much about my specialty (because it's a little awkward and I HATE answering questions about it) it usually involves treating adolescents.

So it's unusual that I see anyone under the age of ten.  Even more unusual, anyone under the age of seven.  Due to my compassionate heart, however, when a colleague hit me up to take a five year-old with some extreme circumstances I agreed.  

And I think he has the answer to all interpersonal problems, maybe even world peace.

Our most recent session he, with his mild speech delay, was explaining to me why he hit his older brother in the mouth earlier in the day:

Me:  I don't get it, I thought you were done with that sort of thing?

Him:  It cwas [older brother] stwole the pwaddo befo my game was done.

Me:  He stole your paddle?

Him:  Yeah, befo my game was done.

Me:  After your game?

Him:  Yeah.

Me:  It still doesn't make sense to me though.  Hitting someone in the mouth is a really mean thing to do.  Last time you were here you said it was wrong to hit.  

Him:  I fwogot.

Me:  Let's talk about things you can do instead of hitting to let someone know you are mad.

Him:  After thinking a bit.  I cwould tell my mom.

Me:  That's a great idea!  But what if she's not around?  What else could you do?

Him:  After some more thinking.  I gwess I cwould tell them cluck you.

Me:  What?

Him:  I cwould tell them cluck you.

Me:  What does that mean?

Him:  I can't say it.

Me:  Why?

Him: Whispering.  It's some-ting baaaad.

Me: Like a swear word?

Him: Yeah.

Me:  Oh.  I'm not sure that saying cluck you is a nice thing to do either.

Him:  My mom doesn't get mad.

Me:   And that's when I changed the subject. 

I've thought a lot about the expression, "Cluck you" since our session and I figure he is on to something.  When your boss writes you up, "Cluck you."  When a customer is rude to you, "Cluck you."  When you are overcharged, "Cluck you."  When you're asked to do something you'd rather not do, "Cluck you."

Thinking a bit deeper.  We all know the one-fingered salute which silently communicates "Cluck you"s counterpart...wondering what sort of gesture might go with a "Cluck you".  Maybe bobbing your head back and forth as you put your hands on your hips and flap them like non-functional wings.  You could even cluck.  

The point is, I just don't think I would get mad if someone said to me, "Cluck you."  I might be more willing to consider my actions that warranted a "Cluck you" and just maybe might change.`  

Validation--I Couldn't Wait for Therapeutic Thursday

I have low cheesy tolerance.  For crying out loud I don't even own one Josh Groban CD.

But this is great.  It's 16 minutes long and so pull up a comfy chair, put the baby in the Johnny Jump Up, get yourself a snack (I ate a donut with yellow frosting and green sprinkles), and enjoy. If you find yourself thinking it's cheesy, and hence annoying, slap yourself because sometimes people just need to feel good, in a cheesy sort of way.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao

Thanks Bran for sending it to me:)