Baeleigh asked me tonight when daddy was going to be home. I told her that he was working late. Why? He's moving his office closer to home. Oh yeah, that's great! Mommy, you work really far away, why don't you move your office closer to home? Well, that's a little easier said than done, honey. Oh, is that because you aren't as strong as daddy?
You can't help but laugh, especially when I'm visually a 19-story building being carried on my shoulders.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Birthday Bae
Today my baby turns six. Though she'd hate to hear me call her "my baby". (That's Gavin right? She's the big girl.) Looking at her new pictures, though, it was hard to see just that. The baby-ness in her face is nearly gone, exclusive of those squeezable cheeks she's inherited from yours truly, and mommy has to come to grips with her baby growing up.Baeleigh, I can see, struggles with that same dichotomy. She straddles the world of babies but also dipping her toe into childhood. She's a very smart and quick-witted girl, and this is easily confused with maturity ahead of her years. I often find myself debating and/or negotiating with my six-year old, only to remind myself that hey, I'm in charge here. Mind you, I fully expect these power struggles to persist throughout our relationship, and at times welcome it. Yet, Baeleigh also doubles as mommy's sidekick. She is the mirror image of me, my mini-me. I see a beautiful, smart, funny and gregarious little girl developing, and I am very proud of her. It's the willfulness and ambitious drive that I see so clearly in her that has also gotten me to this point in my life. I wish the same for her. I have high expectations, hopes and dreams for her. Happy birthday, my little monkey. I love you.
And, two days ago Miss Bae learned to tie her shoes. Just in time for her birthday.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Santa's Calling
In my devious attempt to pry Christmas ideas out of my 5-year old, I may have told my daughter a little white lie. Santa called me. Yep, you heard, he called me. Has me on speed dial. Asked me what Baeleigh, who was a good girl this year, wanted for Christmas. You see he was putting together his preliminary list of toys for all the good kids, and wanted to know if there was one thing in the whole wide world that Baeleigh wanted what it would be.
Baeleigh's eyes were practically bugging out of her head. Santa called? You? Yeah, that's right. Me. I'm very tight with Santa. Me and him go way back. The skeptical eyebrow is still raised. So, I coaxed, "If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?" "Weeeelllll," she said, looking frantically around the room like the idea was going to pop off the wall or from under the bed. "A doll that I can feed." Seriously? That's it. "Baeleigh, you have two dolls, both sitting in that crib over there and you don't play with either of them." "Ummmmm. I dunno." This was like pulling teeth. She's only pointed and practically shouted at me every time some new fangled toy comes on TV that mommy basically ignores the whole dramatic scene. Yeah, yeah, you want that. I get it. Ok, maybe I should have taken notes. So, sue me. The only thing I remember is Zhu Zhu pets, an annoying interactive hamster crappily made and of course the hottest thing since talking Elmo for this Christmas season. However, now that I've bought one of the damn things (at twice the retail price mind you) and persuaded my mother to purchase all the accessories, she doesn't even acknowledge the ad when it comes on TV. It's like the dollhouse and Littlest Pet Shop crap from last year that sites in the corner of the playroom as apparently the basement spiders' quarters.
After Baeleigh succeeded in fully frustrating her mother, what does she ask me? Mommy, how did Santa call you? My cell phone, duh. Mommy, Santa does not have a cell phone. Um, yes, he does. Give me his number, she says, drop dead serious. No way, Jose. Yes, Mommy. North Pole.
Satisfied, but I think still skeptical, she let it go. What is it with no mythical icons not being able to have cell phones?? I can understand her skepticism of the Easter Bunny. I mean come on, it's a four-legged furry animal, but Santa. Please. Cut mommy some slack and just play along. Ok?
Baeleigh's eyes were practically bugging out of her head. Santa called? You? Yeah, that's right. Me. I'm very tight with Santa. Me and him go way back. The skeptical eyebrow is still raised. So, I coaxed, "If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?" "Weeeelllll," she said, looking frantically around the room like the idea was going to pop off the wall or from under the bed. "A doll that I can feed." Seriously? That's it. "Baeleigh, you have two dolls, both sitting in that crib over there and you don't play with either of them." "Ummmmm. I dunno." This was like pulling teeth. She's only pointed and practically shouted at me every time some new fangled toy comes on TV that mommy basically ignores the whole dramatic scene. Yeah, yeah, you want that. I get it. Ok, maybe I should have taken notes. So, sue me. The only thing I remember is Zhu Zhu pets, an annoying interactive hamster crappily made and of course the hottest thing since talking Elmo for this Christmas season. However, now that I've bought one of the damn things (at twice the retail price mind you) and persuaded my mother to purchase all the accessories, she doesn't even acknowledge the ad when it comes on TV. It's like the dollhouse and Littlest Pet Shop crap from last year that sites in the corner of the playroom as apparently the basement spiders' quarters.
After Baeleigh succeeded in fully frustrating her mother, what does she ask me? Mommy, how did Santa call you? My cell phone, duh. Mommy, Santa does not have a cell phone. Um, yes, he does. Give me his number, she says, drop dead serious. No way, Jose. Yes, Mommy. North Pole.
Satisfied, but I think still skeptical, she let it go. What is it with no mythical icons not being able to have cell phones?? I can understand her skepticism of the Easter Bunny. I mean come on, it's a four-legged furry animal, but Santa. Please. Cut mommy some slack and just play along. Ok?
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