Ingridisms

So in love with her braid and "crazy" bun. 

This weekend was a tough one for little Ingrid. She came down with a hacking cough on Thursday and today, thanks to a newly-purchased humidifier, she's starting to sound like herself. She's been couped up for days and has been a trouper throughout the recovery process. Granted, she's watched about 1.6 movies a day, which is her version of a perfect day. Sorry, movies plus Goldfish crackers = Ingrid's perfect day.

On Friday afternoon, I fired up my laptop from the living room so Dan could work and Ingrid could rest (instead of hacking on toddlers at daycare). Girl has ever-so much going on in her little head right now. She's a bundle of energy and imagination. Her verbal stream-of-conscientiousness can get tiresome, but here are some highlights:

Same same! When colors, shapes (or princesses) match up, Ingrid declares "same same!" Just like hummus was once hummy, I'm savoring these moments before she realizes it's "same thing!"

Just like _______. Insert any Disney princess here. This is exclaimed when wearing a necklace, skirt or hat. Or dancing. "Mom, you're wearing a skirt just like Cinderella. Mom, you're wearing a necklace just like Princess Aurora." Or, "Ahwoorah."

I don't want to take a bath. I want to take a bath. I don't want duck in bed. I need ducky. Translation = Ingrid needs to sleep.

Thank you so much, for everything. She grabbed my face, looked deep into my eyes and said this phrase, slowly. I started to tear up and tell her how much I loved her. She cut me off mid-sentence by informing me "Cinderelly said that, 'member?!" 

"Harper is ________. My friend. My dog. So cute!" Finally, after almost three years of ignoring, Ingrid is embracing Harper with her tight little toddler hands.

Can I have yogurt? Morning, noon, night and middle of the night, this kid will always and forever want yogurt.

Happy Monday!

In the Attic

Tuesdays nights are our nights. Dan has poker - or is jamming away on some art deadline. Ingrid and I have been known to watch movies, have a frozen yogurt for dinner or make a stop into Target on Tuesday nights.

Last night, laundry was on the agenda. Ingrid was happily watching Bubble Guppies and I let her know that I was headed to the basement for a few minutes. As I came upstairs a few minutes later, I was greeted by our dog Harper on the stairs. The doorway to the back staircase had been opened by Harper and I didn't think anything of it - she can push the door open if not closed tightly.

I went back to preparing dinner and checked on Ingrid a minute later.

I couldn't find her in the living room and immediately panicked.

Then, I heard the worst sound imaginable. Ingrid crying, hard and loud.She had wandered upstairs and was at the top of the attic stairs.

The whole "search and rescue" had taken about twenty seconds but we were both hot messes. Tears and questions started pouring out. We had a discussion about going upstairs without Mom or Dad. She understands not to leave. I couldn't believe my ignorance - I left her unattended for a few minutes. She's two - what was I thinking? I felt like an idiot. An idiot mother. The worst feeling in the world.

In the large scheme of things, we're alright and lessons were learned but, nothing is worse than hearing your daughter say, "I up in attic. I so scared. Mama scared too." 

We'll go back to indulging on treats and Target trips and save the laundry for weekends.

In other slightly-less-dramatic, only-mom-cares news: Ingrid loves drinking out of an open cup. Those little beer sample cups from brewery tours are really coming in handy:

So proud!

Awkward and Awesome

Without Mad Men, Sunday nights are back to their annoyingly-awkward self.

Whomp waaaaaaa.

Let's not be a pack of Debbie Downers and even dwell on that sad fact. Or, start down the path of "What do you think about ________ in Mad Men" line of questioning (although, I did love to read her spin on all-things Mad Men and seriously, what do you think of Megan Draper?)


This weekend was full of friendship-love, baby-snuggling, running around and literal running (and swimming, more on that later). Let's start the week off right with some awkward and awesome moments, shall we?

Awesome: 

• Clarisonic - simply an amazing facial scrubber. It's worth every cent! Ok, so I have a knock-off-Groupon version, but honestly, I've used the real deal and it's wonderful. 
• Brunch and Brady Street with Dan. 
• Ingrid's budding sense of humor. 
• Brats, beer and the Brewers.  
• Snuggling with new, two-week-old baby (too cute!) Jackson  
• Proposals - During a morning run, I passed over a chalk scavenger hunt. By reading the clues, it was clear that someone was trying to get their ex-girlfriend back - or it was an elaborate and low-cost marriage proposal. As I reached the top of the hill, and noticed dude in dress pants, I assumed the latter and started on an embarrassingly long line of questioning.
  
  Turns out, he had arranged for his friend to get his girlfriend (now fiance, perhaps! hopefully!) out of bed and videotape her along the way to capture this special moment. I was bursting with excitement for this stranger and creepily wanted to turn around, catch up to her and see the proposal in action.
  
  Ok, that was a long bullet point, thanks for reading. Moving on. 

Awkward 

• Realizing that the majority of the above Awesome list could fall into the Awkward category. 
• Dan agreeing to get hot chocolate. Then spilling what I assume was the best hot chocolate ever all over the carpet. This is maybe the second time I've seen him spill anything, ever. (Awesome: he went out for another hot chocolate and it was awesome). 
• Parking tickets. Three in three weeks. That's a new pair of shoes, City of Milwaukee! Grrrrr. 
• Getting carded. Then spending about three minutes wrestling with my wallet to get my ID out.
• Ordering Dan's Father's Day gift on Father's Day. 
• Forgetting the names of Ingrid's daycare teachers (in my defense, there are roughly four Meghans). 
• Spilling coffee on myself. Then, on my keyboard. And finally, while walking upstairs (probably not the smartest move on my part, to walk up three flights of stairs with a full cup of coffee).

Awkward and Awesome Bonus: 

Ingrid likes watermelon smiles.
I'm not sure if that's a real term or not, but in this kitchen - it's smiles or nothing.
Don't you even think about giving her a watermelon cube. Ingrid turns her nose up at silly ideas like eating watermelon via cube-shape or fork. 

Ingrid has to bring a lunch to daycare. Her old hand-me-down lunch box was huge, dirty and had a 3-foot long strap that always wrapped around other lunch boxes in the daycare refrigerator. This little new lunch sack has become one of Ingrid's favorite things in like, 14 months. Bonus, it totally goes with her outfit in a subtle "not-too-matchy" kinda way.

Lesson Learned

Dan and I were both out of the house last week for work and had, max, a few hours to discuss our upcoming camping trip to Wildcat Mountain State Park. Dan etched a veteran's memorial near the park and booked the site last year. Over the phone and by email, we discussed gear, food and drink, but never really talked about our expectations for the weekend. 

After a long four hour drive, we unloaded the gear, set up camp and soon discovered that camping with a one-year-old isn't like camping with a 3 month old. Sure, there were a few sweet moments, like when Ingrid and I watched four caterpillars shuffle around the picnic table. But, as we avoided the windy, chilly weather in our tent and Ingrid became increasingly tired and fussy, it became clear that the weekend would be tolerable at best. 

After four hours at the campsite, we decided to pack it up and head on home, tail between our legs. It was a bummer - we were defeated. 

Maybe if the weather was better, it would have been fine. We both felt like idiots - but lesson learned, camping with a one-year-old isn't fun for anyone.  

As if you need evidence, here I am during a high-point, Ingrid had just fallen asleep and I was "happily" reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Can't you just feel the joy in the air?  

And here's Ingrid after she woke up from her too-short nap. She couldn't stop crawling all over me. She was sort-of happy, sort-of hungry and completely insane. 

On the ride home, we decided to numb our pain with doughnuts and coffee. After missing the exit for Dunkin' Donuts and nearly missing one of the last Kwik Trip exits, Dan sighed "It's just that kind of day." And thankfully, we took it in stride. No one was laughing, but no one was placing blame or bitching (ok, we bitched for about three minutes). 

On Saturday, I woke up to Dan questioning, "Did yesterday even happen?" 

It did and I was over talking about it before the subject even cam up. So I ran, grabbed a kiddie pool at Target and packed a bag for a little picnic and walk around Doctor's Park. 

At least we got some use out of this backpack hiker. 

Ingrid was in love. She stood on the beach and yelled at the waves. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and didn't mind that the water was a little on the cold side. 

However ideal our camping situation could have been, it didn't make sense for Ingrid. Any lingering doubts were washed away as she cautiously wobbled around the beach, mouth open in complete joy. 

She sat here for about two minutes (equal to 30 minutes in adult minutes) gazing out at the waves.

We arrived home to a pseudo-warm kiddie pool and a cooler of mixers. Camping smamping, we had swimsuits, access to ice, iPod speakers and a happy Ingrid. 

I completely understand that camping with a one-year-old sounds insane and dumb. A year ago, it made sense, to us both, to camp with Ingrid. We love the outdoors and wanted to share this experience. Dan wanted to start a family tradition and visit the memorial he created. A year ago, we had no idea what life with a one-year old would look like, feel like or be like. She's in a constant state of transition and exploration. Camping made sense when she was little and unaware. Now, she's aware enough to enjoy crawling caterpillars but not aware enough to understand that we're sleeping together in a tent. Or even to comprehend what a tent is. 

I'm thankful we had two days to turn the weekend around and the time to create new traditions that work with our family, right now. I know there will be plenty of weekends to camp, (and years when Ingrid will think camping is the lamest thing ever) and there will be plenty of visits to the beach - but there's only one first visit to the beach. And that visit was met with screams of delight and wonder, and it was pretty great.  

Awkward and Awesome

Summer is almost here - let's roll up our sleeves and dig in. 

While at a White Sox's game yesterday I was this close to having a hot dog, but resisted the temptation because it didn't feel right. We were in a fancy restaurant in the stadium, and honestly, who can eat a hot dog on a white plate? With a tablecloth? Weird. Hot dogs are hot dogs and brats are reserved for tailgates. 

I've also been rationing the cucumber vodka using the bizarre logic of: "Is it hot enough for cucumber vodka? I don't want to get sick of this come August..." 

I'm treating brats and liquor like fine China. 

Maybe it was the short winter. Maybe it's the realization that this summer is not like last summer (i.e. new infant, no job, nursing every 2-4 hours). Or maybe it's because Ingrid is growing at a rapid pace. But everything feels slightly askew and I know we're entering uncharted territory with a toddler. Which feels terribly awkward in the moment and amazingly awesome in memory. 

Awkward: 

• Finding mashed up peas on your shirt late in the workday. Then silently recalling that it was actually avocado from lunch. Then blame it on your daughter to a group of people who have since moved on from said "mashed up peas."  
• A massage in a wood-paneled room (thanks Groupon)! 
• Getting busted for playing Words with Friends.
• Being awkwardly terrible at Words with Friends.  
• Tripping not once, not twice, but three times in rapid succession while running by a group of people. 
• Not so much awkward as it was depressing - burning a batch of caramel corn. 

Awesome: 

• Husband being done with school (for now). As much as I loved the discussions around essay revisions and sign language quizzes, I'm happy to have my calm, cool and collected husband back. 
• Bright lipstick and top knot hairdos. 
• Hide and seek with Ingrid. Just don't go too far or someone (Ingrid) gets panicky. 
• This knock-off Panara Thai Chicken Salad Recipe. 
• Ingrid's joyful state while splashing around the kiddie pool. Post pool-time smile, also awesome: 

And one of the most awesome moments of all - Ingrid taking her first few steps.

Not to belabor the point, but it does feel a bit awkward to think this small feat is so awesome. But with true sincerity, seeing her take her first(ish) wobbly (or some might say, awkward) steps was such a proud, emotional and (dare I say, awesome) moment.

(that sentence was "Ugh, I'm like, crying." Classic Mom.)

Standing.

Last fall Ingrid and I went to the daycare bi-annual potluck for some yummy casseroles, treats and a chance to connect with staff and other parents. During the potluck, I learned that one of the kids went from wobbly-standing to walking during the course of the day. I think you know where I'm going here.

On Sunday Ingrid started to stand.

Drooly shirt, messy floor and all - this is one of my favorite pictures of Ingrid because she is so proud of herself in this moment. 

For about 20 minutes she was squatting, twirling and falling around the living room. Then, she just did it. She just stood up on her own - no props, no helping - and was pumped. 

I understand that she could take her first "real" steps while I'm at work and I'll deal with that when it happens. I'm assuming I'll be disappointed and excited. But for now, I'm cherishing these moments before she can walk and run. 

One.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. My favorite kind of whirlwind that involved multiple parties to plan, friends and family to visit and cocktails to be sipped.

All of the whirlwinding took a toll on me yesterday in the form of an annoying head cold/sore throat so I parked it on the couch and watched Gossip Girl between trips to and from the kitchen for juice, medicine and Kleenex.

In a medicated haze, I thought about the cold-hard truth that tomorrow - as in today - Ingrid will be turning one. 

Today, Ingrid is one. Today, I have a one-year-old daughter. 

And I couldn't help reflecting on our lives one year ago - and how different everything is one year later. 

New baby, new role as a mother, new routine, new lack-of-routine, new priorities, new job, new grocery list (seriously, now staples include bananas and whole milk). 

And I'm pleasantly surprised how much is the same. I'm at home in our lovely little apartment, Harper is still bouncy little Harper, Dan is still Dan and my friends and family are wonderfully supportive. I still love all of my loves including brunch, online shopping, vodka grapefruits and yoga. I now just do yoga in my living room. 

The newness has been constant this past year and - as cliche as it is - I can't believe it's already been a year since we welcomed her on April 10. 

Today, we celebrated with Tofu Rice Bowls for dinner, gave Ingrid a bath and read about 14 books.

We did host a birthday party with friends and family last weekend and my favorite part of the day was the cake. When we placed the cupcake in front of her, she just studied the cupcake and started to pick off the sprinkles one by one. She grinned a scrunch-face grin at everyone surrounding her and slowly ate her frosting. 

No one was too impressed by this method as they were all anticipating the face-in-cake routine. But not little Ingrid. As I recounted this to my aunt on the phone later that night, she smartly replied "Well, that's how she wanted to eat her cake." 

And that's one of my favorite things about Ingrid - she's funny, intense, has a sense of humor and a really, really, really long attention span.

I know there will be years of her smashing cake in her face, years of her requesting a certain cake flavor, years where she'd rather not see me or any cake - but for her first birthday, she wanted to pick off her colored sprinkles one by one. And then, when I intervened and smashed that corner of her treat in an effort to "help" - she looked at me as if to say "This is how I want to eat my cake." Then, I slowed down, listened and let her eat it because she's wonderfully sweet that's how she wants to eat her cake.

Graham Crackers.

Ingrid loves black beans. Ingrid finds graham crackers to be hilarious.

Pasta? That's pretty funny and yummy too. 

I (that would be mom) am also pretty funny. 

One afternoon, Ingrid got a wild hair up her ass and came up with a genius and hilarious idea... 

She shared her graham cracker.

After much hesitation.

And I shared with Harper. 

To recap - graham crackers, pasta, mom, and sharing are funny. 

Black beans are not funny. Black beans are black beans. 

Eleven

Ingrid is eleven months old. 

She likes to crawl. And put a bird on it.

She likes to help out around the house - and keep her hair out of her face.

She got sick for the first time ever and it was pretty sad.
I stayed home from work one morning to take care of her and she didn't want to move from this spot.
See, it was pretty sad.

For Mother's Day last year, Shutterfly gave me a free photo book gift card, so I used it to make a book about our family.
Ingrid now loves this and refers to everyone as "Da-da."

Not sure if whole apples are appropriate for 11 month olds,
but she loves them and I think they help with her teething pain.

This is her new fake smile.
Stop it, Ingrid. 

This is her real version of her fake smile.

I received one too many "What a cute boy" comments
and decided that barrettes are now pretty cute. 

Ingrid can now sign hungry, drink, and book. She signs book a lot.  

Ten

On February 10, Ingrid turned 10 months old.

She's cuddly, cheery and all-around fun.

She's starting to pull herself up onto the furniture.

She's getting the hang of "marking it with an I" during PattyCake.

Current loves include: books, making sounds with her lips and those little Cuties. 

This month, my girlfriends and I visited Minneapolis for a little weekend getaway. 

Sister + best friends + cheap spa treatments = great weekend.

Ingrid started swimming lessons last week.
She ohhed and ahhed over basically everything.

And the majority of the lesson consisted of me throwing a rubbery ducky
and helping Ingrid retrieve it.  

Basically, we play fetch.

She's growing up so fast and I love her so much.

Puree Genius

During my pregnancy, my girlfriend hooked me up with a pretty decent gig. We take weekly surveys for a major diaper company and in turn, they give us gift cards for Amazon.

Not a major time commitment or reward - but we have managed to purchase some baby supplies, workout DVDs, mushroom logs and one of my all-time favorite things - cookbooks.

Is there anything better than flipping through cookbooks and drooling over gorgeous food photography.

There are probably a million things better, but lets agree that this is, in fact, an enjoyable moment.

A few weeks ago, Amazon recommended Double Delicious by Jessica Seinfeld. Like most of the recommendations, I thought "No, no Amazon. You're only thinking that because I bought X, but that's not right." But then, I started to question my quick judgement and remembered really liking her on that one random Oprah episode.

Her deal is purees. She purees lots of veggies and throws them in food to bulk them up nutritionally and I'm assuming to cut down on cheese, or something. First, I didn't like the idea of "hiding" vegetables in foods, but I haven't revealed one major thing with you - until now.

I liked pureeing Ingrid's baby food.

Not "vodka-grapefruit-on-a-hot-summer-day" like, but in the same way you like to stretch after a good night of sleep.

It just feels good.

I knew exactly what she was eating (and don't get me wrong, she had her share of those baby food packets). I liked chopping, steaming, pureeing and portioning her food into cute little baby-food ice cube trays.

But now that she was onto finger foods, our knock-off Magic Bullet was reserved for smoothies. And smoothies are great in the morning. And babies are scared of loud noises. And I'd rather start the day with a happy Ingrid and a bowl of oatmeal verses a screaming-flailing-armed Ingrid and a smoothie.

See you later knock-off Magic Bullet.

But not so fast.

I gave in and ordered Mrs. Seinfeld's book and stopped wondering why she bothered to work when she's married to Jerry Seinfeld - and started to cook.

Now, rather than making some wholesome vegetable goodness, I went straight for the desserts (and was pleasantly surprised with the long dessert section - with pictures!) and made these yummy dark chocolate chip cookies with carrot puree. Amazing. Granted, each cookie probably has about 1/4 teaspoons of carrot, but honestly, who cares.

Maybe in some weird way, I wanted to hold onto purees because, at times, it feels like Ingrid is in a constant state of transition.

One month she's still. The next, she's rolling over. Then, she's crawling. She's pulling herself up. Now she wants to walk with us holding her hands.

It's like you finally have some sort of grasp on her development and *pouf* she off to the next.

So while she has moved onto finger foods, I'll happily keep making purees and try to remember the time, just a few short months ago, when that's all she ate.

Cinnamon Raisin Peanut Butter Cookies. Yes please.

Morning Guilt {Not the Walk-of-Shame Kind}

As I left daycare this morning, I felt the usual guilty-twinge of guilt, mixed with a mild punch-to-the-gut ache.  

Granted, Ingrid only goes to daycare two days a week, but drop-offs are still a real drag. 

After standing in the doorway for an uncomfortably long period of time, waving to Ingrid like a maniac - she grinned, and waved back. Then she grabbed a faux-food pretzel and shoved it in her mouth (mmm, plastic). Then, she gave me a head-tilt as if to say "Mom, seriously. I'm fine." 

Driving to work, my mind started to drift to the upcoming workday tasks. 

Then, it hit me. I didn't feel that bad - or even that guilty - about leaving my 10-month-old with three college girls. Why not? 

Then I started to feel guilty about not feeling guilty. 

Our daycare center is amazing. Ingrid loves it. Ingrid is the class favorite (I assume). The teacher-to-child ratio is unheard of. It's minutes from my work and blocks away from Dan's school. And, we all get to gaze out onto Lake Michigan during our commutes (oh-so-much better than I-94). 

Then again, I learn about her day on a prescriptive worksheet (ATE ALL OF PEAS AT 12:10 PM. BM AT 9:40 AM). I don't have a contact, control, or even a good idea as to her general well-being from 8:15-5:30 Monday through Friday. And she's the most important person in my life. 

But then, when husband sent this text message today: 

Hooray for chains! 

The rest of the day seemed to go a little bit easier. 

Whether she's at daycare or at home with Dan or I - she's happy. 

Dan's in school, running his own business and watching Ingrid. 

Like it or not, I'm working. 

Guilty as charged, I like work. 

Some mornings it feels great to leave the house and be mentally challenged. 

Some mornings, I wish I could run back into the Caterpillar room (after putting on the blue protective booties, unlocking the never-ending series of swinging doors and washing my hands). Then, I would scoop Ingrid up, and we would snuggle and play all day. Without any fussiness or nap-time whining. Or, with a ton of fussiness and whining. Ingrid wins over email any day. 

The daycare saga is a see-saw of conflicting emotions and rationals. Doing what's best, against doing what needs to be done. Reality of the situation (see) verses what I want (saw). Thrilled about work while missing Ingrid. 

I'm forever thankful that I was able to spend five wonderful months at home with Ingrid, from day one to week 18. 

It's been wonderful to watch Dan become an amazing stay-at-home, work-at-home, student, (and above all) dad. 

I could go on and on about the wonderfulness that is Ingrid's daycare. 

But sometimes, I just want to override my guilty feelings about the decision to work full-time and be with Ingrid.  

Nine Months.

Earlier this week, I came across a real nugget of wisdom in What To Expect The First Year, The Ninth Month, Games Babies Play: 


"Clap Hands. While you sing - 'Clap hands, clap hands, till daddy comes home, 'cause daddy has money and mommy has none.' is the traditional verse - take your baby's hands and show her how to clap." 


What.

At first I was flat-out offended. Then, I furrowed my brow at the absurdity of it all and moved on with the day. But, if Ingrid did earn money for clapping (or am I earning the money as 'mommy'?) - she would earn lots of moneys.

At nine months, Ingrid's dislikes include: going to sleep, loud noises and redirection (away from the cable box and from picking at paint). Ingrid's likes include: crawling (or scooting), the board books cleverly titled - What, Who, Where and Where, yogurt, Harper, newspaper and black beans.

Do you have any black beans? 

Hey You. 

Mmm, it looks like I have four of those little white things now.

Wrapping Up 2011

Over the holiday break, we had a great time with our extended family
and catching up with friends over fantastic meals and multiple cocktails. 

Highlight of the week - Ingrid learning how to clap.
She now wakes up clapping - like she's giving her night of sleep a round of applause. 

Here are some of my favorite moments over the Christmas holiday:

Bath time is the best time. 

Too cute in a chunky knit. 

Flying around with Dan. 

Ready to go!

Christmas Eve Walk.

Cheers 2012!

At 1:00 am on January 1, this was funny.

Peas!