Holiday pageant? I'll pass. Thanks anyway.

Last night, the learning center's two year olds classroom presented the annual holiday pageant. At 5:30, the seats were set up in neat rows so that parents and grandparents alike could enjoy the show. The two year olds changed into their finery in hopes that no one would notice the Pull-ups lines under their outfits. The lights were dimmed. A chorus of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer filled the room. At the end of the evening, teachers from all of the classrooms were handed cards filled with cash in appreciation of all of their hard work this year.

Or so I'm told.

I woke up excited for the event yesterday morning. I wore my third tier holiday outfit, so as not to get finger paint or spaghetti on my dress for more important upcoming events. I styled my hair a little differently for the special occasion. Annabelle and I babbled about attending the production all day. My dad left work early so that he could meet my mom and we could all watch the show together.

If you think I looked cute yesterday,
you should see the first and second tier ensembles

When the time came, though, I just wasn't feeling it. I was sleepy. I had a dirty diaper. There was something crusty and ectoplasm green in my special hairdo. I wanted food, a bath and my bed and to be completely honest, getting those things didn't put me in a much more pleasant mood.

I once received the advice that unless I'm delighted to be somewhere, I shouldn't go. I always want to present my best self and since I couldn't do that last night, I guess I'll have to wait until next year to hear what Rudolph does at the end of the song to get revenge on the reindeer who called him names.

Happy birthday, Annabelle

Dear Annabelle,

Happy first birthday. You're still bald and you can't walk. What's the point?

All the best,

The Bear

Orange striped top, navy and white polka dot pants

When Miss Erica sends a note home saying you need more backup pants in your cubbie, she isn't messing around.

Farewell, Conor

This is a hard one for me. Conor is completing his transition to the toddler room today. He was my nemesis, my boyfriend, my buddy and my partner in crime all in one.

We met when I was three months and he was four months old. Ten and a half months later, we've gone through an awful lot together. Without Conor, I might never have learned to crawl or walk. I'll admit that I've spent a lot of my time at the learning center trying to keep up with him.

We didn't always get along. Most mornings, we fought for Miss Erica's attention. When she picked one of us up, the other would whine and pull on her pants until she picked up the other one, too. I was never interested in a toy or book until Conor wanted it and vice versa.

Once or twice during Conor's transition, Miss Susan has allowed me to join him in the toddler room. I think it reminds us that we'll be together again soon. I've even had the chance to reconnect with Ben a bit. The toddler room has great toys, fun things to climb and I'll admit that I'm starting to like the idea of sitting down to a meal with friends.

For now, though, I'm the last of the old crew in the infant room. Until January, I'll keep getting older while the new babies stay the same age. Sigh.

I guess you can just call me
"Wooderson" from now on.

Happy St. Nicholas Day

I still can't say I fully understand what's going on with all of these holidays my parents keep talking about but I can say I like what I see so far. This morning, there was a carton of red and green Goldfish Crackers (my most fav snack) in my Stride Rites. What?!? Awesome.

Enjoying the breakfast of champions

Maybe it's because they aren't German or maybe it's because they don't wear real shoes, yet, but it doesn't seem that any of the other infants received anything. I'm just thankful that I got my fish before my mom got the report from Miss Erica that I am still hitting babies.

Ew.

If I'm not allowed to scream in Starbucks because people are trying to enjoy their breakfasts and finish their novels, I think that the man at the table next to me should have to wear something under his sweatpants. I'm too young to see all of that stuff jingle jangling around. It's gross.

Not okay.

Keeping my options open

For November, it was pretty warm in Chicago this weekend. So I took the opportunity to get my parents out of the house and ventured off to a few of my favorite spots in the neighborhood. Let me tell you, lovely weather really brings out the talent.

First, I met Sam at Starbucks on Saturday. This handsome, bespectacled blond wasn't shy about toddling right up to my highchair to say hello and pat my hand. Usually, I'm pretty outgoing but I was so thrown off by his forward approach that all I could do was stare.

I made note of the time I saw him, hoping that he keeps a tight schedule and made sure to be back at Starbucks the same time Sunday. Sure enough, he and his dad walked in promptly at 9:30. He totally remembered me and came over to play with my stuffed bear. Again, there were too many stars in my eyes to react. I just hugged my bear and swooned until it was time to leave. Oh well. I'll try again next weekend.

Completely stunned.
Sam made me forget all three words I used to know.

I had a little more luck at the park. I promised myself I wouldn't be so shy and would just enjoy myself. Success!

Even though I'm only 13 months old, 18 month old Eli was following me around everywhere I went. He was big into climbing stairs, playing with leaves and shaking the fence like we were trying to escape the tyranny that is a public park in the middle class part of town. In the end, though, I lost my cool when I needed fresh pants. As soon as he saw my mom break out the diaper bag, he was out of there.

When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

The weekend was winding down when my parents and auntie took me out for one last trip to the park Sunday afternoon. There, I met a mysterious 12 month old who just learned to walk the day before. I know, I know, he sounds too immature for me but he was actually a lot of fun. He wasn't great at sliding but he knew how to climb and follow me, which is important. He didn't come with a stroller. He must live nearby. I didn't catch his name but his face has been added to my mental rolodex. I'll be on the lookout for him for sure.

Maybe no one said the word "bully"

but I think we all know that's what Miss Erica was trying to call me at parent/teacher conferences last night.

I couldn't believe my ears when she told my mom that I have been hitting the smaller infants in our room and sitting on them. There was no way I could defend myself given that my mom caught me pushing Annabelle off a music stool and taking over the mini piano that very morning. So, I guess I'm busted.

But, could I just take a brief moment to defend myself? Okay, okay, I know it is wrong to hit. I know I'm bigger than pretty much everyone but Conor. I know I wouldn't like it if someone did those things to me.

Here's the thing, though. Someone did do those things to me. Have you not heard of Mackenzie or Julian? This is a rite of passage. I was led to believe that the big kids are supposed to pick on the little kids.

I'm not going to throw an ugly accusation like "hazing" around, but let's be honest; we all have to pay our dues. It makes us stronger. It makes us bond. After a little crying, Annabelle and I are closer than ever and she knows that I get first dibs on the music stool.

If Regina George and Cady Heron can make it work,
I'm fairly certain Annabelle and I can, too.

Maybe I need to work on my intimidation tactics. Maybe an infant who is secure in her seniority doesn't have to be so forceful. I will focus on honing my skills over the next few weeks so that I really leave my mark on the newbies before my transition to the toddler room in December.

The people have spoken

And they want their babies and kids to have organic food. The learning center is addressing the request from several parents to start offering organics.

Since I'm in the infant room, my mom has been bringing my food and organic milk all along [apparently, she doesn't want me to get my period (whatever that is) before I start kindergarten] but I'll admit that I was concerned about the plebeian meals I would be served in the toddler room.

Today, my generation can look at our future with confidence and know that we have options for a brighter tomorrow.

I can't be certain, but I suspect all of the adults I know
have been pretty worked up about menu vote 2012.  
Glad we got that all sorted out.



Halloween part deux

Even though I dressed up on Saturday, too, today is actually Halloween. Please do not be confused.

I decided to give Olivia another try today. I was not, however, interested in another photo shoot at home.

 

Just because I make reruns look good,
it doesn't mean I want to be photographed
in the same outfit twice.

When I got to school and saw Annabelle in her pink bunny costume, though, it was on! So what if her dad wanted to get a photo of by herself? He sees her everyday and I'm fairly certain he doesn't have any photos of me, yet. So I got in the shot. Make that shots. Unless he wants to commit a good 45 minutes to editing everything in Photoshop tonight, I'm going to be in the family albums for years. To make sure all of the frames were usable, I stood perfectly still for him (a privilege I never afford my mom).

The rest of the costumes at school were pretty typical. No fewer than four Supermen, a lot of cats and princesses. You get the picture.

Our Halloween "party" (trick-or-treating at a retirement home) invitation limited our options a bit by not allowing

 

1. Masks
2. Scary costumes
3. Weapons of any kind
4. High heels (has this been a problem in the past?)

Miss Erica clearly lost her invitation because her adult Little Red Riding Hood costume absolutely violated rules two and four. Yikes! She tried to get me excited about her outfit by telling me that we were both wearing red but it didn't fly. I don't need my outfit compared to someone who is totally past her prime. Maybe next year, rule number five should address the cleavage issue.

Halloween part un

I'm not sure how kids in the suburbs do Halloween, but city kids don't go house to house. We go shop to shop. This weekend, the kids in my neighborhood met in the main square for photos and a dog costume parade. Then, the area shops handed out candy to anyone in costume. I don't eat candy or say "Trick or Treat," (totally by choice on both counts) but I do like to watch big kids. I was happy to attend.

The princess thing was completely played out this year. I saw three Meridas, two Cinderellas, a Belle and a Snow White. Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn. There were a lot of monkeys, a few dinosaurs and a surprising number of kids dressed as lawn gnomes.

Based on my respect for the character and the fact that the costume allowed me to wear pants, I chose to go as literary heroine, Olivia. Some dum dum thought I was Olive Oil.



We're practically triplets

I suppose none of it matters, though, because I live in Chicago. As any Midwestern kid knows, even the most thoughtful costume just looks like a kid in a snowsuit by the time the sun sets on October 31st.

My costume? Thanks for asking.
I'm a kid from the 1970's whose dad dressed her.

And introducing: The Bear

The October newsletter came out and I am all over this bad boy. I don't mean to take it for granted but it really is about time. Here are some of the highlights. As usual, the photo quality is phenomenal and someone left their caps lock on.

HERE IS THE BEAR PAINTING

THE BEAR, CONOR AND JULIAN IN AN ART PROJECT

JULIAN AND THE BEAR IN THE BOAT TRIP GAME!!!

The pièce de résistance, found in the BIRTHDAYS COMING!!! section is, "Congratulations to our lovely BEAR October 19, HAPPY B-DAY BEAR!!!!"

Congratulations? Um. Okay. Lovely? Why, thank you very much. I'm glad to have made such a nice impression.

Birthday Bear

Today is my first birthday. Last weekend, I hosted an event for close friends and family in my home. The party was so great that some people didn't leave for three days. I felt like Swag.

Dinosaur shirt and a perfectly pointed toe in sneaks.
This is birthday fashion done right.

 

The event planned at the learning center this afternoon will be less exclusive. Because it is taking place in the infant room, I have no control over the guest list. Everyone is invited. Whatever. I still get to wear a paper crown, bask in the glory that is the Happy Birthday song and eat the delicious banana cupcakes my mom made for the occasion, as long as Miss Jazmin doesn't hog dog them all herself.

Is there anyway we could hide these in the back
until Miss Jazmin leaves for the day?

As I reflect on my year on Earth, I remember the good times, like the first time I wore Diane Von Furstenberg, and the not so good times, like the weeks preceding all six of my teeth. It's been quite a ride. I can't wait to see where I'll be and who I'll be wearing this time next year.

Have I mentioned that Julian bit me, yet?

Because he totally did.

Miss Erica tried to keep it confidential and tell my mom that an anonymous infant who is moving to the toddler room this week was the biter. Duh. My mom isn't an idiot. Only one giant baby is transitioning this week.

I won't say it didn't hurt, I won't say I didn't cry, but I will say that I was brave and strong and that I didn't bite him back. I'll let the bigguns take care of him.

You know where you are? You're in the toddler room, baby!

Might I suggest a sedative for tomorrow's drop off?

When you're a baby, you hear a lot of people give your parents unsolicited advice on how to raise you. My mom and dad are generally pretty polite when they receive this advice and then roll their eyes and make fun of the advice giver when they get home. They keep saying that it's a good thing I can't repeat them, yet, but their secrets will always be safe with me because I know if I spill the goods just once, they won't give me the gossip anymore.
 
Becky, mom to Cooper (four) and Kayla (two) is a constant advice giver. I'm not sure she actually likes her kids that much. She's always in a hurry, never says, "I love you" at drop off and drives an SUV that is way too big for the city.
 
Most of her advice comes in the form of "Just you wait". She is constantly looking at my smiling mom cuddling me while she wrangles Cooper and Kayla, saying things like, "Just you wait until she can talk back." "Just you wait until she fights you about getting in her car seat." "Just you wait until she wakes up in the middle of the night and takes your Yukon for a joyride to Indiana to stock up on cheap cigarettes to sell at the park."
 
This morning, Cooper ran past my mom and me to do a puzzle with the other kids in his room. A few steps behind, Becky was carrying a screaming Kayla by the neck of her puffy coat. Seriously. Kayla's kicking legs were at least a foot and a half off of the ground and her weight was supported strictly by imitation down feathers from Old Navy and pure anger. As the two headed, kicking, screaming beast walked by, it turned to my mother and said, "Just you wait until that one is two". Ouch.
 
Being two sounds really hard. I'm not going to pretend I will handle it gracefully. I'm sure I'll have to put my mom in her place at least three dozen times that year. I have to believe, though, that we can come to some sort of disciplinary compromise that doesn't involve me being hoisted through a room full of my peers like a big cat cub, without any control over my body.

Funny how the last people who should give advice
are always the first people to give it

Insult to Injury

Because my family was running a bit behind this morning, my drop off coincided with Ben's. My mom was politely talking to his mom about how his transition to the toddler room is going, blah blah blah. Ben's mom commented on how much pretty hair I have (blush) and then asked if my name was Molly.

Ouch. Just ouch.

We've only been in the infant room together for nine months. I guess Ben wasn't talking about me at home as much as I thought.  

Beep Beep! Introducing the newest infant

If the Social Security Administration's annual list of most popular baby names was any indication, you'd think the parents of the world were getting their act together.

Sophia, Isabella, Emma, Olivia and Ava (the top five names for girls in 2011) are beautiful, classic names that will stand the test of time and serve those who wear them well. Sure, by the time you get to the 21st most popular name, you're in Brooklyn territory, but overall, baby names seem to be making sense again.

So I'm sure you can understand my surprise when Lexus rolled into the infant room this morning. Take a moment, if you need to, because I said Lexus, not Alexis. Even though she already has her ears pierced, Lexus is actually a really lovely 12 week old. Her parents, Julie and Jeff, seem totes normal, too. They aren't even high school students, as their daughter's name would suggest.

Why would Julie and Jeff do this to their baby? Is naming your child after a luxury item supposed to convince the rest of us that the child is of high stature? If so, someone should tell them that Lexi are made by the same people who make Toyotas, so they can't be that fancy. They aren't even European.

You wouldn't name your daughter Celica, would you?
Wait. Don't answer that.

For better or for worse, parents can name their babies whatever they want. I just think it might be a good idea for some people to let the drugs wear off before signing the birth certificate. 18 years from now, someone is going to have to write Lexus on a college application. 23 years from now, Lexus will be on a resume. 28 years from now, she will be saying the words, "I, Lexus, take you, Hermes". 30 years from now, she'll be naming her daughter Jane. 

Celebrity sighting?

I'm fairly certain that Kendall's dad is Peter Sarsgaard poorly disguised by a fitted knit cap but how can I prove it?

Work has been slow since Orphan.
Kendall's dad has plenty of time to do the morning drop off.

Fancy feast

If you're too old to remember a time when you found flip flops to be a culinary delight, let me refresh your memory. To an infant, the bottom of a flip flop is like warm goat cheese and red pepper spread - comforting and spicy.

The average infant finds these items equally appealing

I generally try to stick to my own parents' footwear. Think of it like buying from a local farmer. I value knowing where my food came from. Other infants aren't as discriminating, though, and have been known to make a run for any shoe, sandal or snow boot that any parent takes off when they enter the classroom.

This morning, my mom went through the usual routine at drop off. She took off my jean jacket, put my lunch in the fridge and stocked my cubbie with extra onesies. When she turned around, Ben and I were standing over Conor, who won the race to my mom's flip flops.

Fair is fair. Conor got to my mom's shoes first and totally had the right to bite the straps and lick the bottom. I think he crossed a line, however, when he spit up all over the left flop. Gross. I'm so sure my mom wants to walk around sticking to his Up and Up brand formula goo for the rest of the day. The tissue Miss Erica gave her might have removed the physical offense, but my mother will have to carry the shame in her memory for the rest of her life.

Warming up to a new smell

Last week, while my mom was getting me settled in my awesome new car seat, we saw Miss Miho. She came over to our car to say hello and I was so excited that I lost it a little bit. Okay, I lost it a lot. I couldn't control my emotions at all. I tried to hug her but instead I just screamed and sobbed. It was difficult for everyone involved. The scene was pretty embarrassing.

That night, while I was post gaming my day with my dinosaur, Vanessa, I tried to figure out what was really upsetting me. Of course Miss Miho is the coolest, but I think it's so much more than that.

There I was, in my big kid car seat, not an infant carrier, seeing my favorite old infant teacher after a day of watching Conor and Ben walk around without holding anything for support. Annabelle is starting to crawl and wear somewhat stylish clothes (but she still doesn't have hair). I realized that we're all growing up and heading towards the next phase.

The transition to the toddler room happens sometime after a baby turns one. We have to be big enough to walk and attach our own nose plug. Ben is 15 months and transitioning this week. Since he just turned one, Conor will be next. I am 11 months and 5 days. I know I'm on my way.

Toddlers must provide their own blankie, sippy cup and nose plug

I considered faking extended infancy - starting to beg for a pacifier, regressing to only rolling instead of crawling and pulling up, refusing any food that isn't rice cereal - but I realized that, like Miss Miho, we all have to move on at some point. So I took my literal and figurative first steps towards toddlerhood this weekend.

After I saw the reaction I got from my parents (totally wrapped around my little finger) I think I'm going to keep it up. Yes, they'll eventually make me move on to the abhorrent toddler room but if I'm lucky, they might buy me some new walking shoes, too.

Fall is finally here!

According to every adult I talk to, autumn is the very best season to live in Chicago. Personally, I wouldn't know. I spent most of my first and only autumn swaddled on my mom's lap watching her boyfriend, Billy Bush, dissect Kim Kardashian's divorce with Kit Hoover.

It's gross.

 
This fall is going to be different, though. I have big plans. Just one month from today, I am going to be one year old and I'm taking autumn by storm.

Of course, there will be the dinosaur themed birthday party but I'm looking forward to hosting an event for the presidential election on November 6, too. The majority of the returns should be in before I go to bed at 7:00, right?

I'm also going to entertain several visitors throughout the season and sample some new cuisine with my guests. To protect their privacy, I won't get into specifics but let's just say a few sets of grandparents and an aunt or uncle may or may not be making an appearance.

Finally, being completely over the summer festival scene, I'm excited to explore the fruits of fall at the upcoming Apple Fest and Harvest Days.

In my downtime, I plan to pour over September Vogue and dream of the future, when I'm allowed to wear boots and watch serious movies, which I'm told are the real highlights of autumn.

Sweater cape? Check. Dinosaurs? Check check. Ready for fall? Super check.

Hello, Goodbye

I’d like to welcome Baby Ryan and Baby Blake to the infant room. They’re okay but I’m going to confidentially agree with Angelina Jolie and politely describe them as personality-less blobs. In fact, they’re pretty much interchangeable. I kind of remember what it was like to be that little but I don’t think I was as boring as they are.

Unfortunately, I think Ryan and Blake (who, together, sound like soccer players in an 80’s movie) might have chased Miss Miho off. When I returned from a recent teething fever, she was nowhere to be found.

After crying and clinging to my mom for three days at drop off, she finally wised up and asked after Miss Miho.  It turns out, she has moved to the center across the street and has been replaced by Miss Jazmin. That ‘z’ is not a typo.

Miss Jazmin is fine but she wears scrubs instead of sassy leggings. Her hair is always in a sloppy pony tail, instead of adorable side swept bangs. She doesn’t get in the way during music time but she also doesn’t report to the moms which infants like to dance and shake our booties. Sigh. I miss my Miho.

Farewell, Mr. Jarrod

In honor of my last Wiggleworms class yesterday, I'd like to provide a list of songs that Mr. Jarrod found appropriate for marching time that I found questionable at best.

1. Everybody Must Get Stoned - Bob Dylan
2. I wish - Skee-Lo
3. Waterfalls - TLC (but only the verse about the drug dealer who gets murdered)

My mom thought it was cool that Mr. Jarrod worked some more contemporary tunes into the repertoire. This might be one of those eye opening moments when I realize how very uncool my mom actually is.

For the record, this is what my mom considers "contemporary"

 Mr. Jarrod finished strong with a Beatles heavy final class. I particularly liked marching to Your Mother Should Know. Paul McCartney and Mr. Jarrod are totally right. My mother was born a long, long time ago.

August update

First of all, I feel the need to apologize for not writing in awhile. My August has been insane but life happens and I shouldn't use that as an excuse to shirk my responsibilities to my fans. Here are a few updates to get us all caught up.

Ben has been on vacation for three weeks. Three weeks! I'm not here to judge, but it sounds like one of his parents got fired or something. Who has time to take a vacation that long?

 A good example of what someone might do on a three week "vacation"

A new baby has joined the infant room. His name is Julian. He is insanely huge. His mom, let's just call her Rosie Perez, is super mean and clearly never encouraged him to move on his own. At 11 months old, he still isn't crawling and a look of terror crosses his face every day when Rosie Perez picks him up.


Julian on a recent getaway

Between Annabelle, who still isn't mobile (and is still suspected of stealing my crab onesie) and Julian, pickens are pretty slim. So, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I've been hanging out with Conor in Ben's absence. I'm totally not falling for him again but now that I can pull up and hold onto things with one hand, we're enjoying each other's company more. He's more of a confidant than a crush. A Ducky to my Andie.

According to Miss Erica's classroom calendar, Ben is due back next week. I'm looking forward to spending a little time with him before he transitions to the toddler room.

Somebody call Joe Francis

Because apparently, Mackenzie thinks breakfast time in the toddler room is the perfect setting to go topless.

I know it's hot. We all know it's hot. That's why the rest of us are wearing sundresses and hanging out indoors. She's like one of those guys driving down Lawrence Avenue in a 1990 Grand Am with all of their windows down wearing no shirt. The rest of us have managed to stay cool AND dressed. At this point, you're just showing off.

A beauty like this doesn't need your help to be a fashion statement.

There is simply no reason to take your shirt off and giggle at all of the parents who politely attempt to avert their eyes while they cut through the toddler room. A little decency, please. There are Cheerios being served, for goodness sake!

Ongoing toddler nastiness

This will be short and sweet because I am still in shock from weirdness that just happened.

When my mom and I cut through the toddler room at drop off this morning, Amelia wrapped her arms around my mom's legs and licked her skirt. I can't wrap my head around the nastiness. Savages.

Hey, I just met you and this is crazy but could I maybe taste your fabric, lady?

A little variety would be nice

Yesterday was my third of eight Wiggleworm classes and I think it's time we discuss the elephant in the room. Ascher was wearing his green shorts AGAIN. Three Sundays in a row this kid has worn the same bottoms.

Are they the only summer pants that fit? Does he have an accident before class, forcing him to wear the same backup pair each week? If his laundry cycle puts the green shorts on Sunday every week, why are the shorts always paired with a different shirt ?

It is almost cartoon like how this kid wears the same pants every time I see him.

My mom bought me a pair of boy's shorts at Carters, once. She pretends it was an accident but I know it was totally intentional. I digress. The point is that I know from experience that a male infant in this city can get a pair of shorts for five dollars, easy. That's the cost of one triple venti no whip white mocha at the Starbucks across the street. I'd be willing to give up one coffee a week in the name of fashion.

Happy birthday and possible farewell, Molly!

On our way into the learning center this morning, Molly's older brother, Aiden, stopped my mom and me to let us know that it is Molly's birthday. Duh, like I don't check the birthday board every month to see who will be coming up on the big day next.

Ordinarily, those Beauty and the Beast cupcakes with the hot pink icing would almost certainly signal that Molly was getting ready to transition to the toddler room. There is nothing ordinary about this first birthday celebration, though.

I can't help feeling like this whole party is a sham.

Rumors are swirling that Molly and her brothers are leaving the learning center. My mom has tried to maintain her status as a lady by playing dumb about the subject. She casually asked Miss Erica if Molly and Ben (who recently celebrated the big 1) would be moving rooms soon. Miss Erica confirmed Ben's pending departure (bummer) and said that Molly was leaving the center but wouldn't provide further details.

Molly's mom, Amanda, has been present for drop off all this week but her very nervous and freckly Irish grandmother has been in from Florida with Amanda's minivan every day at drop off. Totally bizarre.

No mention of Molly's final day at the learning center has been made to us, her classmates. So I guess we're all just supposed to sit around at lunch time today, sing happy birthday, watch big kids eat cupcakes and pretend like nothing weird is happening. This will be a true test of social graces for me, as playing it cool isn't exactly my nature.

No farewell post necessary

I hardly feel like this is worth reporting, but Stupid Connor is moving to a learning center closer to his mom's new office. I think his last day was sometime last week or the week before. He probably had to leave twice because no one noticed the first time.

No, really. On Friday, my mom told Miss Erica that she hasn't seen him in awhile and Miss Erica let her know that he was no longer with us. I had to look around the room a couple of times to confirm that he wasn't there.  I thought the infant room had been cooler lately, but I hadn't taken the time to figure out why.

This is usually the point in the farewell post where I would list Stupid Connor's contributions to the room and tell my readers why he would be missed. Honestly, I've got nothing. It seems that Miss Erica is holding out hope, though, because she hasn't taken his construction paper balloon with his name and information off of the birthday board, yet.

Finally dropped those extra 19 pounds

This morning, I arrived at the learning center a little early so that I could have some time alone with Conor. It was time for us to have our big talk. I wore my red sundress for extra confidence. I decided to have the conversation over a pile of our favorite blocks. He pulled my hair, stole a block and took off. That's all I needed. This relationship is officially over. I'm pretty sure he won't even notice.

Whatever. I've moved on to Ben. Instead of stealing my toys, he takes his pacifier out and offers it to me. Yesterday at pickup, Superfreak was playing on the radio and Ben started bouncing up and down. Miss Miho told Ben's mom, "Ben likes to dance and shake his booty." It's about time I'm with a boy who knows how to relax and have a good time.

Dead sexy and dead serious.
We really do listen to Rick James in the infant room.

A busy weekend

I try to keep my weekends pretty open but this week, I had a lot on my plate.

Saturday, my dad took me to Daddy and Me day at the learning center. I was pretty disappointed to see that we were the only ones representing the infant room and that we had to participate in the toddler room activities. It was pretty cool to introduce him to my mentor, Miss Miho, though.

After we did some hand print art and made a door hanger for my room, I gave my dad a tour of my classroom. As a whole, the event was less formal than Mommy and Me day. We quietly exited as the snacks were being presented.

Sunday, I started my Wiggleworms class at the local music school. I wasn't sure what to expect from my classmates, so I dressed to impress in my Diane von Furstenberg LBO (little black onesie). 

I take fashion and drum circles very seriously.

I can probably tone my outfit down a bit next week, considering Levi wore a bib all 45 minutes of class. I have no idea what that was even about. He didn't stop for a snack break or anything. I don't mean to be harsh, but it looked pretty lame. As the only girl in the class, I'll probably have to impart a little style wisdom on the rest of the wiggleworms over the next few weeks.





Faaaaaaaabulous

Just so you know - I wear shoes, now. They are uh.may.zing. Not only do they help me get around (I'm going to be crawling any day now, no big deal) but they are super fashionable.

I picked out an adorable pair of pink, purple and white sneaks with a hint of silver sparkle flair. They are perfect and match pretty much everything I own.

My newest accessory

I never understood the obsession before I wore shoes. Now, I'm totally into it. I'm dreaming of afternoons browsing Kate Spade with my aunties. Looks like I'm going to have to butter my mom and dad up for a little extra spending money this weekend. I wonder how open they are to the idea of getting second jobs to support my new habit.

Excuse me, Kate, do you have these in a size 6-12 months?

A wandering eye

After a minor illness, I returned to the learning center this morning. Conor completely ignored me and instead of rushing over to welcome me back, chose to crawl around and pull up on the cribs in the back of the infant room. Meanwhile, I was surprised to be greeted by a new, more handsome Ben.

Since turning one over the weekend, Ben has completely ditched the pacifier. I never realized how good looking he was until I could see his sweet smile. Ben has four teeth, a full head of hair and the ability to walk, not just crawl! Even though he is leaps and bounds ahead of me developmentally, he sat down with me to play with the big bouncy ball. I'll admit I was smitten.

Maybe

I'm hesitant to start a new relationship with someone who is going to be moving into the toddler room in a couple of months but I can't stay with Conor just because we're the same age, right?

I've been scoping out the signup sheet for Daddy and Me day this Saturday. So far, my dad and I are the only solid yeses but Ben and his dad are a maybe. Hopefully, we can get in some good face time and I'll be able to make an informed decision soon.

Sick day

Anyone who told you I took the day off to watch the story about Kate Middleton's hats on Today, was only giving you part of the story.

It turns out, I have a little sore throat. No worries, though. My mom took me to the doctor, bought me some delicious yogurt and helped me take a little nap and lower my temperature with a dose of infant Advil. 

I hope to be back at the learning center soon but if I'm not better tomorrow, I get to hang with my dad. (cough cough) I think I might need a trip to Starbucks, Dad.

PJs in the PM only, please

I've mentioned my love for the park before. It really is just a fantastic place to relax and meet and greet. Lately, I've been so excited about the park that I've been waking up early on weekends in the hopes that my mom will give me breakfast and take me directly there.

Thus far, my plan has worked. Of course, my mom doesn't just let me have my bottle and wheel me over to the park in the footie pajamas I wore the night before dribbled with whatever didn't make it to my mouth. You know why? Because we have a little something called class.

Yesterday, my mom and I decided to go to the bigger park at the center of our neighborhood, rather than the one closest to home. There's a little more shade, a sprinkler for hot days and better people watching in general.

I was pretty impressed by the mom-covery on the woman next to us with her two daughters but that was pretty much where the adoration ended. She, her mini-me five year and her two year old (who totally had hand, foot and mouth disease and should have been quarantined) were all still in their pajamas. It was clear they hadn't brushed their hair or teeth yet, too.

Cool look, kid. Are you headed to brunch at Bistro Campagne when you're finished swinging?

Look, we're all excited about the park. We all want to beat the rest of the neighborhood to the choicest swings. We all know that after 10am, it is going to get too hot to hang at the playground. But we're trying to have a society, here.

I'm not asking anyone to put on makeup or even shower, but I think something besides oversized flannel pants with cows jumping over the moon might be in order in public. Personally, I plan to save that look for 2030, when I'm a college freshman.

Penny Lane & Co.

Every summer, my neighborhood sponsors a super cool, family friendly concert series. It's a great place to see and be seen after a hectic day at the learning center. Last night, for example, I ran into Nia while waiting for Old California to play. This week's show just didn't have the elite vibe I usually get, though.

While the other parents had a plastic cup of white wine or five, my mom slammed a hot dog from the German restaurant across the street. I realized it was not going to be her most ladylike moment when she covered it in ketchup (a major faux pas, but I'll give her a pass, since she grew up in the South).  

Shortly before the stage dives began

As the band was setting up, there were a few kids on stage. I thought maybe they were roadies, but upon closer inspection, they were doing chalk drawings. It seemed a little disrespectful to the guy trying to tune his bass.

When the music started, the groupies really came out. They started out slow by stomping to the beat but by the end of the first song, there were at least 20 kids crowding the stage. One, who was inappropriately wearing a cape and a crown, even climbed on stage like he was Courtney Cox or something. Thankfully, his mom, splashing chardonnay, quickly removed him and the rest of us were able to enjoy the remainder of the show.

Picky Eaters

Every day this week, Miss Erica has pulled my mom aside to tell her what a good eater I am. I'm not bringing this up to brag. I just don't understand what the big deal is. You're telling me there are infants out there who don't eat everything that's put in front of them? Seriously? How is that even an option?

From what I've overheard (I'm honestly not eavesdropping, her mom just happens to be really open), Molly is a serial offender. All she likes is Puffs and formula. I imagine she's going to grow up to be like Don Gorske.

I don't mind the taste.

Yesterday, we strapped in for lunch at the same time. I had pureed beef with asparagus and a side of mangos. Molly had Cheerios and freaked out when Miss Erica offered some bananas. 

Of course, it's possible that Molly has it all figured out. I've noticed (again, not being nosey, just super observant) that she goes home in the same outfit she arrived in most days. Maybe this beige diet is doing something for her.

Is my boyfriend a bully?

I guess if I have to ask the question, I already know the answer. It's a hard thing for me to admit, but things have not been the same between Conor and me since I returned from vacation. You see, while I was away, Conor learned to crawl.

I understand that he's a few weeks older than me and that means he'll occasionally be a few steps ahead of me developmentally, but our relationship based on our similar size and sitting capabilities has always been so perfect.

Now, when I sit down next to him with a stack of blocks, he picks one up and crawls away from me. To be honest, crawling away would be fine if that was the only problem. Sometimes, Conor actually tries to crawl over me. He is 19 pounds, for goodness sake! My fragile 18 pound frame can't handle it.

The last straw was this morning. I thought he was going in for a hug when he wrapped his arm around my neck, but he ended up choking me a little bit. I know some people say boys are mean when they like you but I can't get into the philosophy.

Having both brains and beauty, I know the only solution to this problem is to learn to crawl, myself. Whether I crawl after him or away from him has yet to be determined.

The race is on

Missing

Could somebody please get me a milk carton? My favorite onesie seems to be missing. You would know it if you saw it.

When you grow out of your clothes every six weeks,
it is pretty upsetting to go even one day without access to a fav.

I wore it to school yesterday and came home in a different outfit. Granted, that happens from time to time, but the adorable blue checked shorts that went with it made it home without the crab onesie. Miss Erica claims that my accident yesterday was so bad that it might have been put in the wash at the center before being returned. I was not under the impression that the center had a "mess" limit to what they sent home for my mom to launder.

If it isn't in my cubbie by the end of the week, I'm going to have to have a serious talk with Annabelle. She's the only other infant who can fit in my clothes and I know she's been trying to copy my style.

Caught by the paparazzi

Guess who FINALLY made it into the monthly newsletter?!?! I've been at the learning center for five months and this is my first credited photo.

No offense to my mom, but my goal for the summer is to
make it into the newsletter without her sharing my spotlight.


I have a couple of people to thank, beginning with my mom, who appears with me in the photo, taken at the center's Mommy and Me Day. I'd also like to thank Miss Erica for having the camera ready at just the right moment.

Here's hoping this is just the first of many, many appearances to come.