He's Happy and He Knows It

Sometimes a good giggle happens when you're dressed in your sister's shirt. Them are the breaks. Also, love his face at the end.

Improvising

I'm wearing a girl's shirt that is much too big. And no pants. And I'm ticked. Read on.

We joined a gym with child care. Just saying that makes me feel like a NJ housewife. Which I'm not! Because in addition to websites that I feel like I can barely manage to contribute to these days, hello, book! This book. Pre-order yours today! For real. I'm not even kidding if you read this blog you better buy a copy thank you.

Aside from the outdoor pool, the selling point to the gym was the whole child care thing. Someone to keep the kids out of trouble for an hour or so while I work out, the only possible way I have time to work out? But strangers (gasp!) and other children (gasp gasp!)? And more importantly, NO MOMMY!? This is a recipe for tears (Avery's) and much anxiety (mine). We've been going regularly for at least two months now and the only times I haven't been called back to the daycare were once when I didn't hear the intercom, which doesn't count as success, obviously, and another time just last week when she finally made it longer than 20 minutes without being hysterical.

Hysterical isn't the word I use. It's the word the pros use. A good report? "She wasn't hysterical the whole time." That's a good day.

It really is getting better, although she's a demanding customer. Mornings are pretty chaotic at the gym because of all of the workout classes that we Jersey housewives (try to (yes, they will walk into a packed cardio class with a sign with your name on it if your child is inconsolable for more than 10 minutes)) attend, but afternoons are quieter. So I've been going in the afternoons so she can get a little extra staff attention. She demands staff attention. Whenever I return, she's being carried by the staff. If they make a move to put her down, they hear about it. It was the day when there was enough staff to watch the other children and an extra one to carry Avery that I didn't get called back to the child care center.

The pure relief on her face when I return is heartbreaking, but she really is getting better. We usually go swimming after her 10 or 20 minutes of hysteria is up, and she's no longer freaking out as much when we go back to pick up Owen, who is usually happily swinging in a swing. She's not requesting that I carry her all the time when we set foot in the room. Most of the time, but not all. These are baby steps that give me hope.

The funny thing is that she's super friendly and the biggest ham once she's comfortable somewhere. A party next door? She was a riot and made friends with everyone by the end of the day. But upon our arrival? Wouldn't budge from our laps and would close her eyes, which is her coping mechanism for avoiding someone or a situation that makes her nervous. (Also, hilarious. We can still see you, Avery!)

But the one day that I got back to the daycare after 30 minutes with no call, I had to check to make sure I hadn't inadvertently missed the intercom announcement. So Avery and I headed to the pool. After playing and splashing and hollering "Excuse me, kids" to kids across the pool who were playing in HER fountain, we were about to get out. And I saw a daycare staff member heading my direction.

And I just knew that the day Owen needed my attention had come. In all this time, he'd never been hungry. Or fussy. Or in need of a diaper change. This was it.

"Sorry to bother you...but Owen pooped...it's all up his back."

Of course. As Avery and I scrambled to get dried and dressed, I did a mental inventory of my gym bag. The diaper bag was all the way out in the car. And it had a 3-month size onesie that I knew he wouldn't be able to squeeze into on even his thinnest day. And of course I didn't have anything for him in my gym bag. But Avery does have a stockpile of like five swimsuits that I carry, one of which is a swim shirt. After considering putting him in the flower swim shirt, I remembered that Avery's shirt was blue. It had flowers, but at least it was turquoise, not pink. (Not that it freaking matters but still.) So we got back to the nursery and got Owen all changed and into Avery's pretty shirt.

I forgive you Mommy!

I'm not the most prepared mom on the block. And yes, he is still wearing Avery's shirt in these photos even though we were home for hours when they were taken. But I was still wearing my swimsuit, so at least you're dry, Owen.

Avery is 2!

Happy Birthday to my dear sweet little Avery! Our tiny baby is now such a big girl.


We celebrated over the weekend, and you would have thought she had turned 21 instead of 2 because of how tired we were by Sunday night. We stayed up pretty late on Saturday night because our neighbors had a barbecue, and even though we got home fairly early, we had a lot of celebratory preparations to do. We were up until well past midnight, assembling a play kitchen and decorating a cake.

What's cuter than a daddy decorating a butterfly cake for his daughter? Only the daughter, I say.

The cake turned out adorably. I was the idea guy and Alan took over in decoration execution, thankfully. There is a reason I'm a writer, not an artist, after all.


Avery came downstairs on Sunday morning to her kitchen set assembled in the living room. She was so excited she got a little shy about the whole thing. After getting picked up by Alan and then hopping onto the couch, she ventured over to the kitchen...and didn't leave it for 30 minutes.

Hey Marti, make yourself comfortable in an otherwise adorable photo op.

She loved all of her presents. She got lots of goodies beyond her kitchen.

This picture makes my heart hurt.

A new friend to love. (Thanks Cindy and Ronnie!)

We had to enjoy the fruits of our labor, so there was cake to be eaten!


Owen, of course, had to party it up too.


At 2 years old, Avery is becoming her own little person. She's becoming quite the chatterbox, and she repeats everything. And you never known when she'll pull something out of her brain. At the barbecue, she randomly told someone "Puppy puked" because Marti had been sick the other day. She got too close to the street recently, which she knows is "very dangerous" and preempted my safety talk by saying "Avery Anne" like I do when she's in trouble.

She loves reporting on Owen's activities. Owen awake, Owen laughing, Owen kicking. When she wants him in the bouncer or jumper or off my lap it's "Owen-uh Owen-uh bouncer bouncer/jumper jumper" or "Owen down." One time Owen was crying and she revisited the pipes she's scared of: "Owen crying pipes." She's adding "very" to things, which is funny. She'll point to the street and say "very hurt" or "very ouchy."

We're painting our kitchen cabinets, a months-long process, and she knows that Alan is sometimes downstairs working on them. The other day: "Daddy painting cabinets...puppy painting cabinets...no, that's silly."

Counting is hilarious. She'll now consistently count to 10, but after that it gets interesting. "Eleven, uh-twelve, uh-poorteen, uh-sickeen." A recent hilarious run through the alphabet: ABCDEFGHIJK apple bike, QRSTUVW bike Y and Z, now I AB EFGHIJK apple bike, Yay!"

Some of the cutest words? "Mazagine," pronounced with the z and g swapped. Muskic. Hungry is still "hoo-awwn-gry" and she's always hooawngry. Most people list the few foods their kids will eat; I can list the few she won't eat: tomato, olives, cucumbers, unseasoned chicken, potato salad. Miss Opinionated now wants me to "move mommy move" if I'm at all in her way...or she wants to climb on me and not let me leave her sight. It's anybody's guess at any given moment.

She loves swimming and when someone splashes her at the pool? "Bad kids." When a kid is in her way? "Move kid." (And we're now teaching "excuse me.") She's also very particular about her bedtime routine. She must have her blankie and her "second blankie." She requests that the air conditioning be actively blowing ("A/C on, nice and cool"), so I don't know how she'll take it when we turn it off when it cools down. Her dolly, Golly, must be tucked in, as well as her hands and feet. It's like we add something new every night.

Some more recent faves of our funny girl.




Instead of parroting back everything we say, she's now starting to respond properly and has just now started saying "no" to things as you'll see in the video below. When she really doesn't want to do something? "No please."

Hooping it up.

It's been a wonderful ride over these two years. Avery is really becoming her own funny little person complete with her own opinions and quite the personality. Stay awesome, little Aves.