Belly and The Bug: August 2009

Hodgepodge of subcategories

Potty Mouths

Buggy and Belly really have been spouting off some winners lately. For the last week or so, the Bug's been saying f*ck on a regular basis - as in, repeating it over and over and over and over - and we've had no clue what she's really saying. Yesterday I finally figured out that she means frog, but prior to this discovery, we recorded her saying it in response to all sorts of questions.

"What did you say when you couldn't find your bear?"

"F*ck!"

"What did you say when Mommy wanted to change your diaper but you wanted to keep reading?"

"F*ck!"

Additionally, she says farters instead of flowers and Belly says "Mommy's pooter" when referring to my laptop. All of the above make me giggle like crazy. I'm so easily amused.

Little nutty bananas

And by that, I mean my daughters. Look at this:

Ah, the memories

I went down a rabbit hole tonight on Facebook and ended up feeling like an insecure 16-year-old again. Um, that wasn't fun. I recently became "friends" with an old boyfriend and I browsed his friends to see if there was anyone I knew. Oh what a gaggle of bitchy high school girls! Well, they're not high school girls anymore, but you know what I mean. I remember so vividly how these girls were just flat out nasty to me because I was dating this guy and they decided I wasn't "good enough" for him. Thank God I went to a different school so I wasn't confronted with it on a daily basis, but we had some friends in common and it made me miserable. Not good enough? Who did they think they were? Ugh. Girls are vicious. I am doing my best to raise Belly and the Bug to be nice to others. I sure as hell hope I'm successful.

Bikes and Beer

A couple weeks ago, New Belgium Brewery's Tour de Fat came to Portland. Dude and I took the girls to witness the craziness. It was a blast! There were freaks on bikes everywhere! Which, by the way, is not that far from the norm for Portland, but there was good beer and loud music involved. Hmm. I guess that's not far from the norm for Portland either. Anyway. Here are a few pictures from the madness. I highly recommend checking it out in a town near you next summer.

Good times!

We have been warmed

Last night, we finally had our housewarming party. I've been prepping for this gathering for the last week - tidying the house, getting the food stuffs in order. I had thought that it was going to be about 25 people, but the final number - including kids - was 46. Forty six people! I didn't even know 46 people in DC (outside of work)! We had a ton of fun and a ton of food and drink. I made the full spread of food and basically have zero leftovers. There were two bits left on each plate when the last guests left. I guess it was all good stuff! I was too harried to take pictures when the table was all ready (bummer), but here's what I put out:

Finger sandwiches: roast beef, arugula and horseradish on focaccia; and grilled eggplant, squash, portobellos, red peppers and sun-dried tomatoes with goat cheese and pesto on focaccia
Spinach dip
Caramelized onion dip
Chips
Endive "boats" with clementines, blue cheese crumbles, candied walnuts and a balsamic reduction
Mixed olives
Rice cracker snack mix
Figs, blueberries and strawberries
Brownies
Oatmeal-raisin cookies

And for the kids:

Whole wheat cheese pizzas
Cheddar bunny party mix

Beverages were assorted beer and wine, some N/A offerings and juice boxes for the kids. Halfway through the party it looked like there was still a lot of food on the table and I was worried, but then everyone kicked in to eating mode and it was really the perfect amount. I was so happy...and relieved!!

My friend Shanna brought a five-gallon bucket full of amazingly gorgeous dark red and pink dahlias from her garden and we made three large bouquets - two for the mantle and one for the table. I'm pretty sure they are my new favorite flower. These were in addition to the ginormous bouquet that arrived on my doorstep Friday afternoon from my old boss at TNTETDWTLAWBISITKWIRL who had heard about the party way back on the East Coast. (For the record: I love her. She is the girls' godmother. She was not the problem at that job by a long shot.) I do have some pictures of the flowers.

You should've seen the number of ridiculously cute kids here. They ran and played and colored and danced. And there were only a couple time-outs that I was aware of - NONE for my girls (can you believe it?!). Speaking of Belly and the Bug, they were very, very good and very, very excited to be having a party. One of my favorite parts of the whole event was watching the Bug repeatedly (as in multiple five-minute sessions) standing by the table, standing on her tippy tippy tiptoes to reach in the bowl for a chip, getting the chip just so in her hand, then reaching way way way up into the bowl of onion dip, scooping out a bunch, licking it off the chip, and double, triple, quadruple, quintuple dipping. When that chip was too soggy, she'd eat it and repeat the process. ONION dip, people. She didn't go for the brownies or cookies or cheddar bunny mix. The ONION dip. I love it. Later in the party, she got herself a big spoon and made short work of the blueberries on the fruit plate. I managed to get a picture of that, too.

I was afraid that I would spend the whole party worrying about there being enough seating, enough food, enough drink, enough FUN but I didn't at all. I just had a great time! And as is the case when an event that I've been planning for awhile comes and goes, I'm left thinking about what I should plan next. A good friend here in Portland is about to go away for a couple months, so I think I'll be having a "ladies night" sometime in the next two weeks as a send-off for her. I'm thinking lots of wine, lots of plates of "small bites" and stuff like that. I can't wait!

About 45 minutes after the last guests left (minus Dan and his girlfriend who stuck around), Jonas arrived. He was taking a red-eye last night to Costa Rica to pick up my niece and nephew from his ex-wife. We had planned for him to leave his car here and I took him to the airport. He brought with him the most adorable play kitchen I have ever seen that he made for my girls. It is THE BEST! Check it out:

And you can turn it so that the two sides are back to back!

Those little knobs for the stove? Those came from an old van that my dad had given to Jonas a few years ago. I love that Jonas thought to incorporate those. The girls saw this when they came downstairs this morning and I expect that their reaction is pretty much what Christmas morning will be like this year. They were so excited! They played with it aaaallllllllll morning.

So, here we are - successful party, happy toddler play kitchen, lazy Sunday afternoon. I'm ready for a nap.

Today's Word of the Day: HARUMPH!

That's how I feel. A little pouty. A little bratty. A little...just...well...harumph! I got all polished up today for a meeting with a Portland Man-in-the-Know, a local celebrity guy of sorts. The whole idea is to network and forge strong connections that could lead to some consulting work. And clearly, there's the problem. WORK. I have come to realize that I just don't wanna!!!!!!!! Seriously. Dude thinks I should be moving forward with finding my next project so that I can always pick and choose instead of needing to jump at something I don't want to do if/when it becomes a necessity for me to bring in a paycheck again. And yes, I need to stay relevant. But so-help-me-God I'd much rather color pictures with the girls and eat cream cheese-and-jam sandwiches with the crusts cut off than pull out my Ann Taylor clothes and suit up to become Professional Rachael again. I have adult interaction on a regular basis. I'm not lacking in the mental stimulation department (I have Facebook, right?? Ha!). Just sitting in a conference room today reminded me of all the stress I used to have. I remember that feeling of panic creeping into my chest as I had 3 minutes between meetings to write a report, brainstorm the finer points of a new million-dollar project, respond to 36 emails (received in the last 45 minutes) and pee. No thank you. I'll pass on feeling like that again.

I suppose it won't be like that, though. I have no intention of going to work full-time. And certainly not at a place like where I was before: The-Nonprofit-That-Everyone-That-Doesn't-Work-There-Loves-And-Would-Be-In-Shock-If-They-Knew-What-It's-Really-Like (or TNTETDWTLAWBISITKWIRL for short). People literally Oooh and Aahhh when they hear I worked there. It takes a great deal of restraint to not vomit on their shoes. I loved my immediate coworkers and, in theory, the place had a great mission. I too was an admirer before I knew the inner workings; the ineptitude at the highest levels; the in-fighting; the "who moved my cheese?" mentality; the ridiculous, ridiculous personalities, politics and bureaucracy. I've been gone for well over a year and I am still incredibly bitter. I'm hiding it so well, eh?

Anyway, I get that the whole idea of finding a project now is so that I'm always doing something cool. I guess I'm just scared that I'll get swallowed whole again and not be able to focus on my family, which is my top priority. And it didn't help that the Bug had a rough start of things with Nanni today. I had been gone only a couple minutes when Dude walked through the dining room where the girls were eating lunch. Buggy was looking down at her highchair tray with one hand clutching Belly's tray, trying with everything she had to keep it together. As soon as she saw Dude, the lower lip popped out and she totally lost her shit. Dude held and rocked her for 10 minutes before all was good again. And then the next four hours were fine until I got home. Things like that are not making this work thing any easier for me to accept.

HARUMPH, I say!

Season 4, Episode 71

Last night was our monthly Family Game Night with the three of my sibs who live in Portland and might I say, it was one of the best yet! We ordered pizza from Hammy's on Clinton Street and it was awfully good. One was a regular pizza but the other was called "King Earl's Deliverance" with pancetta, sausage, bacon and extra cheese. My GAWD that was good pie. I probably should've washed it down with twelve fish oil capsules and a cup of flax seed powder to counteract its effect on my cholesterol, though.

Have I talked about my cholesterol on here yet? I don't think so. It's elevated. I'm trying to get it down. It's genetic. It's lame. Enough said.

In addition to the pizza, we had planned to pop a bottle of 1983 Bordeaux that I've been carting around for at least a decade. Dan was born in 1983 and this was the first we'd hung out since his birthday a couple weeks ago. This particular bottle of wine was given to me at a wine tasting when I worked at Spago in LA. When I showed it to the sommelier at the time, he told me that it was either going to age very well and be delicious or end up being pretty mediocre - a total crapshoot. I have moved that bottle from Los Angeles to Washington DC to Portland, taking great care to ensure it stayed horizontal. And last night when I took it out of its special box and ceremoniously took off the bubble wrap, it was apparent to all that the bottle's seal had loosened at some point and the wine had leaked a little. Uh-oh. I took off the foil; it crumbled. I pushed the corkscrew into the cork; it was soft like butter. I took a whiff of the wine; it smelled like moldy vinegar. Talk about a disappointment! We cracked open some beers and some other bottles of red wine and let bygones be bygones. Clink! Clink! Let the games begin.

Dude took the girls up for a shower while the rest of us started playing a card game. All of a sudden there was terrible screaming - the kind of screaming a mother never wants to hear. I knew instantly it was the Bug and I ran upstairs as fast as physically possible. I threw open the bathroom door and there was Dude holding both Belly and the Bug. Buggy had her face pressed into Dude's arm. There was a steady stream of dark red blood running from her face down his arm. She had slipped on her way out of the tub and apparently bit her tongue. She was hysterical and wouldn't let us look in her mouth. The amount of blood was truly alarming. I feared the worst, of course - half of her tongue was going to be dangling in her mouth and we were going to have to take her to the emergency room to get it reattached. In my head, I told myself to get it the fuck together because I needed to be strong for my kid. I finally got Buggy to calm down and we looked in her mouth. Everything was attached, but she had a nice gauge from one of her canines. And she had stopped bleeding at that point. It was clear she didn't even need stitches, but what an effing freak out!

Tucking them into bed after that was pretty uneventful. I kissed each of them and said goodnight. As I walked out of their room, I said, "Goodnight, everybody. I love you." And that's when it happened. The Bug said in response, "Lub lu." I froze.

"I love you, Buggy."

"Lub lu."

"I love you, Belly."

"Luv Oo."

They told me they love me!!! THEY TOLD ME THEY LOVE ME! It was amazing. I totally welled up as my heart overflowed a thousand times over. In the span of 20 minutes, I'd had two such opposite extremes of maternal emotion. I headed downstairs and poured myself a biiiiiiiiiiig glass of wine. To quote one of my favorite moments from The West Wing: "Game on, boyfriend." It was time to kick my family's collective ass at cards. I was PUMPED.

A day at home

We have been out playing with friends every day this week and, while it has been GREAT, we're taking it easy today. Our big outing will be to the store in a little bit to stock up on booze and treats for tonight's Family Game Night (a monthly tradition that is in the process of being established with my three younger sibs who live in Portland). It's been overcast and in the 70s today - a perfect day to chill. Yesterday we went to Ikea and I bought the girls each their very own easel. We've been coloring and coloring and coloring! I think I'll break out the chalk here soon and introduce them to the world of chalkboards. Or maybe watercolors! The world is our art oyster today...so long as it all stays on the paper and not the floor or walls or books. I also think I'm going to make some parmesan-squash chips as an afternoon snack. Yum!

You know, I used to think I was pretty domesticated and crafty until we moved to Portland. I cook dinner at least five nights a week and like to color and stuff with my kids, but I'm nothing compared to some of the moms I know. They can fruits and veggies. They sew clothes for their kids. They use cloth diapers. I'm all, "Uh, I like Pampers best even though they're more expensive and I'll happily take your extra garden vegetables because I have a brown thumb." It makes me feel a little...dumb.

[Aside: I promise I have been very, very, very good about not swearing, but the Bug is walking around right now saying "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sheeeeeet." Maybe she's saying something else and it just sounds like she's an offshoreman? I'm going with that.]

Anyway - I constantly find myself making mental notes of projects I want to do "when I have time" with no idea when that time will exist. Here's a sampling from my list:

- Make alphabet magnets using baby food lids (I saved a zillion of them for this project that I saw in a magazine forever ago)

- Plant some herbs in the window box outside the kitchen window

- Get all crafty and finish decorating Belly and the Bug's room

- Bake something delicious and nutritious every week

- Make "color books" for the girls

There are a zillion other things, too, and none of them seem as ambitious as sewing clothes or canning. Why can't I get it together? Maybe I'm just plain ol' lazy. Hmm....

In appreciation

I know I already put up a short post today, but I'm feeling compelled to write another one. I peeked in on the girls sleeping a little while ago and they were just...SO BIG. Where have my babies gone? There are two KIDS in that bed. The girls are both in a phase of incredible growth and I'm astounded by them every day. They use new words! They understand new concepts! And physically, it's hard to keep the place childproofed because what they can do and where they can reach today is further than yesterday. I'm terrified that I'm going to blink and they'll be starting kindergarten and then becoming teenagers and then leaving for college. I just want to clutch them to me and tell them to slow down! Belly said, "Holy mackerel!" tonight. The child only started calling me "mama" this year. And the Bug can jump. JUMP! That's supposed to be a 24-36 month skill. I'm immensely proud of them. And a little weepy. Sigh.

I am also feeling unbelievably lucky. Lucky that I am their mother. Lucky that I have been able to stay home with them this whole time (I hope that continues). And lucky that I have landed in a great town, in a great house, with my great husband, and making great new friends. This is really what I was hoping for when we decided to move here. At this very moment, I have no complaints. That's a good place to be.

Dra-HAMA queen!

Just thought I'd let you know that - as I write this - the Bug is standing about 6 feet away from me looking in the mirror and practicing crying and pouting. I kid you not. There's the bottom lip poking out, the teddy bear and my car keys in hand. She's perfecting her spectacle. And Belly just walked up, patted her on the back, swiped the keys from her, and ambled away. That's some real love right there.

Free association

Actual conversation earlier today as I pushed the girls in their stroller...

Me: Girls, when someone asks how old you are, you say ONE. Can you say that?

Belly & Buggy in unison: ONE.

Me: Great! Let's try it. Buggy - how old are you?

Buggy: Wocket! (meaning, Rocket - she has a special love for fireworks, which she calls "rockets")

Me: Um, no. The correct answer is ONE. Belly - how old are you?

Belly: Woof! Woof!

Me: Actually, you're ONE. When someone asks how old you are, you're supposed to say ONE.

Together: ONE.

Me: That's right! Bug - how old are you?

Buggy: Wocket!

Me: Belly - how old are you?

Belly: Six.

At least it was a number. There was also a conversation wherein I tried to get the Bug to say her real name - which has three syllables and she won't EVER same them all together (she says "Eleanor" and "Emily," though, when referring to her friend and aunt respectively). I usually put the first two syllables together and she repeats, then we add the third. Today I mixed it up, though, and I said just the first syllable - which she repeated. Then I said the second and third syllables together. Instead of repeating, though, she started giggling. I said them again. She looked at Belly and laughed harder. I said them a third time and both she and Belly were totally busting up. I demanded to know what was so funny. The Bug reached over and pinched my breast and said, "Nipple." And that's when I realized that they thought I was saying "nipple" (instead of what I was saying) and that it was part of her name. I laughed and laughed that they thought it was so funny! When did my little girls turn into 12-year-old boys??

Somebody email me patience NOW

Would you please? PRETTY please? Because I am OVER Belly's screaming tantrums. She woke up almost an hour earlier than usual today so when we went to OMSI this morning to meet our friends, she was a total pisser. She started out in a fairly good mood but basically refused to listen to me about anything. And when I insisted that she listen to me, her mood (and mine) went downhill. It was so effing lame. At one point, she'd been sitting up on a counter looking at a computer screen of a butterfly for a good 10 minutes - and bogarting it from everyone else - when I decided she needed to move on to something else. She had a full-on, tears-and-snot, hitting-Mommy, screaming tantrum that felt like it lasted an hour. In reality, it was probably 10 minutes or so, but it felt like it just would not end. I kept trying to redirect her with other things, but she was beyond mad. I would have left with her right then but Buggy was having so much fun that I didn't want to make her suffer because her sister was a punk. So we stayed. And Belly screamed "NO!" at me over every last little thing: holding my hand, not putting the flashlight-on-a-string-that-every-other-kid-and-his-brother-played-with in her mouth, staying with the group at snack time, etc. I finally tucked her under my arm (she was screaming, of course), grabbed the diaper bag, had the Bug say her goodbyes and we left. As soon as we were out of the building, she was all giggles. I felt so annoyed that I almost started crying.

Now they're sleeping and I'm hoping it's a long nap. I. Need. A. Break.

A noteworthy day

Today marked the beginning of a new phase here in Chez Belly-Buggy - a phase that contains a brand new friend whom I will simply call Nanni (she's 18 and her name actually ends in "i" so I can't very well call her "Nanny"). Nanni came recommended from the nanny across the street. We exchanged emails. She seemed nice. I called her references. To say they were glowing would be a gross understatement. I've never heard such stellar references for a real-life person for any position ever. EVER! Multiple people basically told me that I'd be a damn fool if I didn't hire her. So she came to visit. The girls loved her. I loved her. The Bug cried when she left. She was so effing hired.

Now before you start thinking that I'm one of THOSE moms - you know, the ones that have a nanny but don't have a job? - I'm only hiring her for one half-day each week. Unless I'm doing more consulting work (I'm wrapping up a little project now), in which case I will have her either two half-days or one full day each week. I just need some time to get stuff done without having to stop every two minutes to parent.

Anyway. Today was Nanni's first official day with us and it went ridiculously well. I thought I'd ease her into things and planned to be upstairs the whole time (I still had some unpacking to do in my room) so I would be easily accessible if/when Belly or The Bug panicked because they missed me so much. The girls woke up from their nap to discover that Nanni was here and she helped me get them in their seats for lunch. Then I went upstairs and it was all her. There was not a whimper from those girls for the entire 4 hours Nanni was here. I heard massive giggles. I heard the girls talking and then Nanni's voice and then the girls talking again. I heard papers rustling as they colored. I heard running as she clearly chased them around. I actually - *gulp* - felt lonely for everybody and wanted to come down and play with Nanni, too! But I didn't. Instead I was very grown-up about the whole thing and pouted just a little as I unpacked. It is awfully exciting, though. I'm already trying to decide what to do with my four hours next week!

I should also give a special nod to Dude today for putting up with my sorry patootie for sixteen years. Yup. I said it - SIXTEEN YEARS. It was all the way back on August 11, 1993 that Dude and I went on our first date. We went for a walk in Lake Park to watch the meteor showers but it was too cloudy (just like here tonight - they were supposed to be great, too!) so we just walked and talked and sat and talked, etc. The fact that he didn't try to kiss me or hold my hand or ANYTHING had me convinced that he wasn't interested. Man, was I bummed! And thankfully - wrong. Happy Dating Anniversary, Dude! I love you like mad.

Home again, home again, jiggity jog

What a great weekend. Temperatures were mid-to-upper 70s. The sun was shining. The ocean was sparkling. We had a wonderful time! The highlights? Starfish! The Rogue Brewery! My hooligans frolicking at the beach! Dude not working! See below...

Oh - and this is my 100th post. Woot! Woot!

Westward ho

Dude does this thing every five years or so where he gets together some of his old high school buddies - and usually his brother, too - for a guys weekend that is officially dubbed "Droogie Weekend." It's a Clockwork Orange reference, but to be honest, I don't get it. I tried to watch that movie probably six different times when I was younger and I think each time I had been smoking the reefer, thus causing me to either get bored and abandon the movie in order to run to the corner store to buy Cheetos or fall asleep. Either way, I've never actually watched it and have no inclination to do so now that I'm older and pot-free.

ANYWAY - this weekend was supposed to be Droogie Weekend 2009. Dude had a beach house rented on the coast and I planned to go to Mom's with the girls (where it's Rodeo Weekend - a spectacle for this city girl, to be sure). Then, one of the Droogs had to cancel because of an illness in the family. Which led to the other backing out and Dude's brother couldn't make it anyway. So bummer of bummers - we're all at the beach house for the weekend! Woohoo!!! Although it would've been fun to go to the rodeo, I'm psyched to have an unplanned getaway with Dude and the girls.

We wanted to leave around 2pm today to beat traffic, but that SO did not happen. Instead we left at 4pm - just in time to hit traffic almost the entire way. Google Maps said it would take 2 hours and 40 minutes to get here with traffic. Well, counting an hour-long stop for dinner, it took us about 4.5 hours.

For once, I think we actually did a good job of just going with the flow of the situation and neither of us got worked up. Stop-and-go traffic as far as the eye can see? Oh well! It is what it is!

Belly took a late-afternoon nap. The Bug was pretty much wide awake the whole time. She spent a solid half hour or so saying, "Kitty? Kitty? Kitty? Kitty?" To which I said, "Yep! There was a kitty sitting on our step earlier."

Buggy: Step? Step? Step? Step? Step?
Me: Yep. It was sitting on our step.
Buggy: Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow!
Me: Yep. The kitty says meow.
Buggy: Pish-posh! Pish-posh! Pish-posh!
Me: Yep. When the kitty walks, it goes pish-posh.
Buggy: Kitty? Kitty? Kitty? Kitty? Kitty?

You get the idea. Dude kept chuckling and said, "Just remember that you have the most important job in the world." I agree with him, but I'm not sure he understands that I have conversations like that with the girls multiple times a day. That was NOTHING.

The beach house is cute and very cottagesque. The girls are sleeping and Dude and I are at opposite ends of the couch reading (well, I put my book down to write this). There's some jazz cd playing in the background; a fire in the woodstove crackling in the foreground. Life is awfully good at the moment.

And before I sign off - have you seen this? It made me cry.

http://wellknowwhenwegetthere.blogspot.com/2009/08/sincerely-john-hughes.html

Nope.

The Bug woke up this morning with a very wet diaper so we did not attempt to start potty training.

Big freaking sigh.

Are we about to enter the foreign land of...potty training??

I have fantasies about the girls using the potty. I have changed approximately 9,735,862,147 diapers and I am OVER IT. [I should mention that I think Belly is pooping as I type this. Damn it.] I yearn for the day when both girls will just inform me that they are heading to the bathroom and I can simply go in and wipe butts when they're done. That sounds as glorious to me right now as the thought of having a massage (which, if you know me, is ALWAYS my idea of a good time).

Anyway, a strange phenomenon has been taking place the last few nights with regards to the Bug's diaper. She's been waking up in the morning and that sucker is still dry. And then about 10 minutes later, it is a giant water balloon. This means that - hello, my little glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel - I could potentially place her on the toilet in the morning and she could use IT instead of her diaper. We'll see what the sitch is tomorrow morning. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

...fast forward 10 hours from when I started this post...

So, tonight I went to Happy Hour and then some with Sissy and her roommate. SO much fun. Good company. Good booze (grapefruit margaritas). And rather importantly, good food. I ordered the Duck Salad sandwich and was informed that they didn't have it but had the PBLT in its place. I know, I know - you're thinking Peanut Butter, Lettuce, Tomato? GROSS! And yes, that would be quite foul. However, that is NOT what the PB stands for. No no, my friends, it stands for Pork Belly. To which I say decidedly YUM!! As in, holy effing YUM. As in, I wish I had Anthony Bourdain's phone number to tell him YUM. I even told the cook (I'm not sure he was a chef?) that it was fantastic. And I should also mention that this place is 10 blocks from my house. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. The very, very best kind of trouble. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" (do ya know what that's from?)...

If you're reading this, thanks Sissy for taking me out and showing me a great new place! Now. If I can potty train my kids tomorrow, the sun will certainly be shining a little brighter. And hopefully that won't be a problem for my grapefruit margarita-saturated brain.

I'm off to watch the SYTYCD finale. God I love that show.

Kickin' ass and taking names

Yup. Belly is at it again. This morning was her Early Intervention evaluation and she totally, freakin' rocked it. The evaluation consisted of a teacher and an occupational therapist (both women in their 50s who immediately garnered the trust and interest of my girls) asking Dude and me questions about Belly and having Belly perform a bunch of different tasks - coloring, talking, knowing the difference between "mine" and "yours"/"in" and "on"/etc., sorting shapes, throwing a ball. You get the picture. She was so awesome. She pretty much got everything right on the first try. The teacher was asking me questions above her appropriate age/skill level so that she could establish the ceiling of where Belly's skills are and she even had mastered some of those skills. For example, the teacher asked if she could say how old she is. I answered no - that's something we're working on, but the girls always say "two." I then asked Belly, "How old are you?" And she said - clearly and decisively - "ONE." Needless to say - and yes, I'm totally bragging here - everyone in the room was impressed.

The evaluators said they would send a formal report, but Belly does not qualify for Early Intervention services because no need could be established. They showed us her scores in the five areas of evaluation and she was either in the middle or at the high end of average for her age range. And that's non-adjusted, thankyouverymuch.

What. A. Relief.

Belly and The Bug