(Scene: bedtime last night.)

Maya, will you give mama a kiss?
(Normally, this is followed by a sweet smooch.)

No.

Okay, then…lights out time. Good night!

Bye!

(Scene: lunchtime. Fussing heard from the other room, where Maya eats in her highchair)

Hey, Maya — looks like you’re done with lunch. Do you want down?

No.

Would you like some fruit?

(wait, wait, wait)

Would you like some banana?

No.

How about some apple?

No.

Would you like some pineapple?

No.

Maybe some oranges?

No.

Are you all done? Do you want down?

No.

Okay, would you like some milk, then?

No.

Do you want down?

Well, just let me know when you’re ready to get down, then.
(I leave the room. Fussing resumes.)

Maya, what do you need?

(Maya signals “all done.”)

You’re ready to get down?

No.

Someone is learning the power of a new word. It’s fun to watch, but also vaguely irritating.

Maya appears at the gate that blocks my office from the rest of the house. Outside?

No, honey, not outside yet. Since you rubbed yogurt in your hair, you need a bath before getting dressed.

(Let’s pretend for a moment that it isn’t weird that I’m still in the office while my sticky child wanders the house.)

Maya tosses herself deliberately on the floor, in protest. She doesn’t even bother to cry. As soon as I look back to the computer screen, she wanders off, knowing the tantrum just isn’t worth the problem. I think I’m getting the hang of this whole toddler thing.

Guess I’d better go wash her up…

CRASH!

(pause)

(pause)

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

For the past couple couple weeks, I’ve removed Maya’s rocking chair when she’s stood on it. Today, she discovered why. Loudly. With her head.
Ouch. Tylenol and nap time.

(no, nothing — child, fireplace, or tile surround — was broken)

~~~~~

Uh huh. Go ahead and throw a tantrum. You still don’t get the bright pink highlighter back.

Did you know that highlighter washes right off of cabinets as long as you catch it quickly? Shirts? Not so much.

~~~~~

Do you have any idea how much I do not care that you don’t want your diaper changed?

~~~~~

No, we’re not going out to swing. We’re going out to Babies ‘r’ Us to spend an exhorbitant amount of money on gates so mama can block off her office from 1-year-olds who steal markers.

~~~~~

Someone has learned to climb every. thing. in. the. house. That would include the office chair (onto the desk)…and the kitchen chairs (if not pushed in) onto the table…and the piano bench onto the piano keys.

Let toddlerhood officially begin. At least she hasn’t developed a propensity for the word “no.” Yet.

Better run — it’s quiet in here. Too quiet.

The four crayons I just took from Maya are all missing their heads and tails. Colorful poop coming, film at 11.

Hi.

Maya leans over and kisses me on the nose.

Hi. Hi. Dowwwwwn. (making the “more” sign) She kisses me on the nose again, just to ensure that I’m actually awake.

This beats the mornings when I wake up to little fingers poking me as she says Eyyyyes.

I have now seen Monsters, Inc. and Toy Story more times than should be legally allowed. I honestly don’t mind; it’s a nice break from Baby Einstein and Thomas videos.

It’s easy to appreciate MI with a toddler, and I now estimate “Boo’s” age to be around 2. I shamelessly call Maya “Boo” on a regular basis.

Speaking of Thomas, does anyone else find the children’s voices to be just downright creepy? And the humans’ voices? They all sound like idiots.

Trains. Maya loves trains. (Her grandfather encourages this.) She can be in the middle of anything, but if she hears a train go by (we live near some tracks), she runs to the sliding door saying, “Woo-woo! Woo-woo!”

You might miss something.

4 months, 8-1/2 months, 19 months

The “more” signal in the right photo was because I was making faces/noises at Maya desperately trying to ellicit a smile. Seems I hit the silliness jackpot, considering I was competing with Blue’s Clues over my left shoulder!

With all of the other updates, I knew I was forgetting something!

Tooth #6 made the beginning of its appearance on Saturday (or was that Friday?). It’s the upper right one-year-old molar; this kid is getting her teeth in a really odd order. So, scroll to the bathtub picture a few posts below, and you can see her first five (two on the top, three on the bottom)…and now, a molar. Weird!

Maya shares her ice with Clay…

…and her dried cranberries with Katie.

Maya’s absolute favorite activity these days is swinging. Starting on Easter, she now signs “swing,” usually followed by a heart-felt, “please!”

From the time she wakes in the morning (or from a nap, or whenever she happens to think about it), Maya asks to swing…and doesn’t quite get the concept that I don’t HAVE a swing at my house. As a result, her grandparents’ house has become even more of a favorite destination than it already was. Gee, you think they planned it that way?

Below, you can see first-hand why *this* particular swing is the object of Maya’s affection. It’s not even going as high as it can! Next, you see Maya’s grandpa messing with her (to her utter delight). Finally, see Maya sign “swing” and ask for “ish.” It took me a while to figure that one out…why the heck was Maya’s word for swing “ish?” Oh…right. When I push Maya, I usually say “whooosh!” just as I push her higher. This, of course, is followed by the expected reaction when Mama doesn’t respond to a request.

I’m perhaps one of the least overly-anxious, neurotic parents I know — especially among my friends who are also first-time moms. Tonight, however, I found what inspires paranoia to rise for me: leaving a toddler in her own room, without the benefit of crib bars to keep her safe.

The big, heavy dresser? I’m just convinced that she will somehow (all less-than-20-pounds of her) bring it down on her head. The changing table just looks like a climbing wall. Never mind that my child isn’t *that* much of a climber. The room is fine. I know the room is fine. That doesn’t make it any less weird for her to be sans-crib.

For the love of God…she’s not even in a big, high bed. She’s on her crib mattress, on the floor. Why on the floor? Some friends picked up a couple of twin beds for their youngest kids, so passed their baby daughter’s crib/toddler bed on to me. After I took my crib apart, I tackled the job of putting the hand-me-down together. This is not exactly rocket science…but I’ve put enough furniture, cabinets, and other micellany together over the years that I know when four bolts are clearly not the correct ones for the crib (they were subbed for the original pieces), and five other pieces of hardware are missing. After a (fruitless) trip to Home Depot in search of replacement cam locks, I let it go. Maya’s mattress is on the floor…and I may end up getting her a full bed before long after all.

Anyway, back to paranoia. How much could happen?

I hear crying upstairs, and it’s oddly reassuring.

Oops…there’s a crash. Um…bye.

Update: All is well in toddler-land. She’s just banging on the door. Poor kid — wonder where she’ll end up sleeping?

Update 2:There’s nothing sweeter (okay, and funnier) than poking your nose in the door to find that your kid is sleeping with her cheek planted on the carpet…while her hips and legs are still on the mattress. Oh, and her not waking up during the nose-poking is pretty cool too. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Maya holds her snack baggie of natural cheetohs (if you haven’t tried them, they’re really, reallllllly good), and wanders around the house. The dogs are outside, so all is well. Katie paws at the door, asking to come in.

Crates! I yell … there’s no way Maya gets to finish her snack if the dogs are loose in the house.

A few minutes later, Maya heads straight to the dog crates, snack in hand.

Maya, that baggie is your snack. You may eat it, or you may feed it to the dogs, but that’s all you’re getting this morning.

Maya nods, and eats another cheetoh. A moment later, I glance over to see the empty snack bag on the floor.

Fish? Fish? Maya wants another snack.

I consider it for a few seconds, then realize that I just CANNOT give her more, even if she is hungry. We had a deal, and she made a choice. Even if it really pisses her off, she has to live with the consequence of her choice. She’s the one crying, but I feel like such a tyrant!

Sorry, Boo. You decided to share your snack with Katie and Clay. That’s all you get until lunchtime.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! MAAAAMAAAA!

SIGH.