first real shoes

We were told last week that "DHS" requires Britton to wear shoes while playing on the playground at daycare. I'm calling shenanigans because (1) she can't walk and (2) I've read the DHS requirements of child care centers and the guidelines don't require shoes. But instead of arguing to the point where everyone and their grandmother admits that I'm right, I decided to take advantage and get Britton some shoes! We're apprehensive to put her in shoes because we think she learns to walk best by feeling the ground underneath her feet. But, rules are rules, so the hub scooted out to Storkland on Saturday and came home with...

Shoes!



Watermelon Robeez....



Which Britton promptly dirtied to death on the playground today. But, hey! That's like worrying about the mileage on your car. Cars are made to be driven, and shoes are made to get dirty.



And because Britton needs options, the hub also picked up some polka-dot Pedipeds. Do they make these in my size?

bigger ain't better

Two weeks ago we were approached by Britton's daycare teacher about transitioning Britton to the 1-year-old room early. Ms. E goes on, "As you know, Britton's really smart. I mean, really smart." [Yes, I do know, but keep telling me.] "And she is eating table foods, and doesn't seem as interested in a morning nap, and is almost walking, so we think she's ready." And the hub and I were excited that she was progressing, and of course it's always nice when someone else notices that your kid is awesome. Since then, Britton has been spending more and more time each day in the 1-year-old room, and we get reports from both rooms that she is doing great and adjusting well.




Like even today, when some kid tripped on her on the playground and she got a goose egg on her forehead. But she got over it and played and even had music time. And the music teacher was so impressed that Britton paid close attention to the music. Of course, the teacher doesn't know that the hub uses bad harmonica music to distract Britton from her teething pain, and I make up songs like a crazy person about anything under the sun, set to the tune of bad 1980s television shows, but hey. Music's in her blood.



And she likes these new foods they feed her, like pineapple, and quesadillas, goldfish crackers, and tator tot casserole (whatever that is), and apple cinnamon strudel. Unfortunately, some other "favorites" have cropped up on her daily sheet, like chocolate chip bread, chocolate cheerios, pizza, and chicken nuggets. We're not so excited about that.



I'm happy she's doing well. But. Ahhh, the "but" I've put off for two weeks now. The "but" I ignored because I could, because I don't pick her up so I never see the new classroom, because I still drop her off to the same classroom where I know the teachers and the other babies and the routine and the toys.



Oh, it hit me hard this afternoon when I picked her up from the new classroom - the other children, mouths filled with teeth, waddling and walking around, "talking" in their baby voices... she isn't in the quiet baby room, with soft pastels and whispering voices and bottles and blankies and swaddling and swings and bouncy seats and tiny diapers.

But she can't stay in that room because she's not a baby anymore.

family portrait time

I was going to post our family portraits earlier, but I have been down and out with a migraine. Seriously, you ever had a headache for two days?! Where your eyes feel like an industrial fan has been set on "high" against them? And it's being held in place by an ice pick? Yeah, it wasn't pretty. But our portraits are! I perused awkward family photos on the internet to figure out what NOT to do when it came to clothing, backgrounds, the like. And the end results are fantastic.

father's day pictorial

To Josh - the hero, the knight in shining armor, the slayer of monsters under the bed, the banisher of the boogeyman, the vegetable enforcer, the human teether, the silly song singer, the king of peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake, the snot wiper, the stroller-pusher, the bottle-maker, the baby gadget savant - to you, the light of our daughter's life, happy first Father's Day...

"When a child is born, a father is born. A mother is born, too of course, but at least for her it's a gradual process. Body and soul, she has nine months to get used to what's happening. She becomes what's happening. But for even the best-prepared father, it happens all at once. On the other side of a plate-glass window, a nurse is holding up something roughly the size of a loaf of bread for him to see for the first time." ~ Frederick Buechner





"The guys who fear becoming fathers don't understand that fathering is not something perfect men do, but something that perfects the man. The end product of child raising is not the child but the parent." ~Frank Pittman





"The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, 'Daddy, I need to ask you something,' he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan." ~Garrison Keillor





"They say that from the instant he lays eyes on her, a father adores his daughter. Whoever she grows up to be, she is always to him that little girl in pigtails. She makes him feel like Christmas. In exchange, he makes a secret promise not to see the awkwardness of her teenage years, the mistakes she makes or the secrets she keeps." ~Anonymous






"Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express." ~Joseph Addison

happy father's day!

We had a great Father's Day weekend, with Grandma and Grandpa coming up to help us celebrate. On Saturday morning they arrived just in time to play with Britton before her nap. Then, while Britton slept, we all got ready for our family portrait session at Portrait Innovations. Well, except for the hub, who was getting a haircut and straight-razor shave at the Clubhouse Barbershop as an early Father's Day present. Does it count if he had to pay for it himself (from our joint account)? Anywho, we made it the photo place to be greeted by every family who ever decided to get a family portrait, an hour wait beyond our appointment time, and the air conditioning broken. Seriously. I was fuming. But we'd already gotten gussied up and come hell or high water those photos were getting taken!

After that debacle, we got Britton home for her nap, and I promptly crashed on the couch. When Britton got up she played in her crab pool for the first time. I think she's wary of it, but she loved splashing.





And the hub and Grandma and Grandpa went to look at a new car, and ended up getting one! It is a Honda Odyssey and if you have a good memory, you know they owned one before the truck. Well, some vehicles are too good to only own once! It is beautiful and fully loaded and I can't wait to take up the entire third row for a family trip.

This morning Grandma cooked breakfast and we opened presents. Britton got the hub and Grandpa cards and photo frames, complete with pictures of her. She also got her daddy a cast iron grill pan that he has been eyeing for a while now, and got Grandpa a Disney polo shirt that says "Grandpa"! We could have had his name embroidered, but "Grandpa" is just so much fun.








So, I think the hub enjoyed his first Father's Day as a father, and the first spent with his dad when both are fathers themselves.

And to my daddy, in a place where the marlin are plenty and the sun always shines, I miss you. I love you. Happy Father's Day.

untitled

"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back." ~William D. Tammeus

car seat & corn

Two things that don't seem to go together at all. Like bananas and fluffernutter. But both make Britton turn into an ornery wretch for a minute, then she decides this might be something she likes. She is her mother's daughter.

composition notebook

Every Monday through Friday, it’s the same day
I wake up already stressed
Bills to be paid, no time to play games
A measley hour of getting her fed and dressed.

Florescent lights and a cubicle await, then
After nine hours of sitting alone
I don’t know what she’s done, if she’s had fun
As I battle the evening flow home.

To a whole ninety minutes to relearn my girl
She loves a new food, a new toy, a new song
She’s made a new friend, she’s standing again
Those ten hours away feel like too long.

So let the phone ring, let the t.v. go unwatched
Let the world think that I’m missing
Because I’m on my floor playing some more
With my beautiful baby girl Britton.