Thursday, May 26, 2011
seated to belly during grad school
lela decided to awaken during my grad class yesterday at 9pm... the worst timing ever. we were going into "breakout" chat rooms and i had to talk. i gave her my wine glass (am i giving something away) and she bellowed into it, listening to her voice echo, for about 10 minutes. she then saw a pencil near her and really wanted it. she fell from a seated position to her belly and started to scooch. the girl has figured out. we will have a sitter to crawler very soon.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
her majesty eats
yesterday lela decided it was time for her to pick up the finger foods on her tray. before she would just stare at them, *sometimes* reaching for one and then just throwing it on her lap or the ground. well, yesterday she picked them up and put them in her mouth. :) i love seeing progress.
today she started hoisting herself up to all fours and doing the little booty rock. we'll see how long it takes her to go into a full blown crawl now, rather than the dead man's crawl she's mastered.
she's taken to reading books on her own now too... flipping the pages and looking at the pictures that is. she bellies herself over to the area in her room where all her books are and starts digging for the one she wants. she'll "read" it and then go through about ten more, all before she gets distracted by the wood grain of the chair leg or the fibers of the rug.
today she started hoisting herself up to all fours and doing the little booty rock. we'll see how long it takes her to go into a full blown crawl now, rather than the dead man's crawl she's mastered.
she's taken to reading books on her own now too... flipping the pages and looking at the pictures that is. she bellies herself over to the area in her room where all her books are and starts digging for the one she wants. she'll "read" it and then go through about ten more, all before she gets distracted by the wood grain of the chair leg or the fibers of the rug.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
amsterdam and lela's first decipherable, intentional words!
lauren, lela, camden, and i went to amsterdam last week - heineken experience, tulip gardens, the amstel, red light district, brownies from a coffee shop... we had the full experience.
tasting bar where we learned how to best drink a beer (no, not out of a funnel!) - tilt your head back while tilting the beer to reduce the amount of foam intake, if you didn't already know~
playing with the babies in the hallway of the heineken bar (different from the one above) since the bar was more of a club scene and a little much for two 8-month-olds... :) a little odd walking up to the bartender with a baby carrier on (remind you of "the hangover"?) and ordering a beer, but we had to take advantage of our two free heinekens!
keukenhof tulip gardens~
lela standard while out traveling (look closely)~
buddies~
lela and camden are blossoming into best buddies. they were from the start, but they are now at the age where they can actually play together, rather than just lay side by side next to each other. on the way up to amsterdam, they were holding hands in the back seat, sharing toys, and mimicking each other's yelps.
just yesterday, lela was smiling up at something, talking softly, and smiling, beaming at something. i follow her gaze and she is looking up at the picture of brant and i on our bookshelf. she looks directly at it as i'm watching her and says, "da da". the most precious sight ever. i encouraged her to say it again and she did and smiled and then went back to playing, every once in awhile looking up at the picture again. looks like brant won. :) however, lela was at her friend taegan's house on tuesday while i was getting some mother's day pampering and when i picked her up, my friend becky said, "hey, did you know that she says 'all done' when she is finished eating?" i listened for it today, and yup, lela says "all done" as well... "all done" and "da da". lela's first words.
lastly, breakfast. lela is a german-born american that eats like a frenchwoman. she has taken to only eating bread at breakfast. little nibbles of bread and coffee and she's good. (just kidding) bread. that's it. pretty soon she'll be asking for baguettes.
tasting bar where we learned how to best drink a beer (no, not out of a funnel!) - tilt your head back while tilting the beer to reduce the amount of foam intake, if you didn't already know~
playing with the babies in the hallway of the heineken bar (different from the one above) since the bar was more of a club scene and a little much for two 8-month-olds... :) a little odd walking up to the bartender with a baby carrier on (remind you of "the hangover"?) and ordering a beer, but we had to take advantage of our two free heinekens!
keukenhof tulip gardens~
lela standard while out traveling (look closely)~
buddies~
camden heard that the weed was good in amsterdam. this one.... not so much~
of course, 1000 more photos from this on our mobileme: http://gallery.me.com/sbreilly
lela and camden are blossoming into best buddies. they were from the start, but they are now at the age where they can actually play together, rather than just lay side by side next to each other. on the way up to amsterdam, they were holding hands in the back seat, sharing toys, and mimicking each other's yelps.
just yesterday, lela was smiling up at something, talking softly, and smiling, beaming at something. i follow her gaze and she is looking up at the picture of brant and i on our bookshelf. she looks directly at it as i'm watching her and says, "da da". the most precious sight ever. i encouraged her to say it again and she did and smiled and then went back to playing, every once in awhile looking up at the picture again. looks like brant won. :) however, lela was at her friend taegan's house on tuesday while i was getting some mother's day pampering and when i picked her up, my friend becky said, "hey, did you know that she says 'all done' when she is finished eating?" i listened for it today, and yup, lela says "all done" as well... "all done" and "da da". lela's first words.
lastly, breakfast. lela is a german-born american that eats like a frenchwoman. she has taken to only eating bread at breakfast. little nibbles of bread and coffee and she's good. (just kidding) bread. that's it. pretty soon she'll be asking for baguettes.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
cinco de mayo - 8 month old chinchita
in her 8th month, lela gets around really quickly by creeping (borderline crawling), plays really well with her best buddy camden, laughs a lot, stares at her hand and watches the slow movement of each finger (i hope everything's okay), discovered her tongue and loves touching it to her chin, smiles so big, giggles, and kicks and kicks when i go in to get her out of her crib in the morning, eats this and that - anything mushy, loves the outdoors, and misses her daddy.
in celebration of mother's day, i had to post this letter written by tina fey to her daughter (thanks mom). i am pretty sure i was the girl in front of hollister (in different words) and i know i am the girl laying on the floor at 4:50am... happy mother's day mama.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.
in celebration of mother's day, i had to post this letter written by tina fey to her daughter (thanks mom). i am pretty sure i was the girl in front of hollister (in different words) and i know i am the girl laying on the floor at 4:50am... happy mother's day mama.
First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.
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