Chloesaurus

With every passing day it becomes increasingly clear that Chloe is not like the others.  Our child is stubborn, busy, and determined.  She also has a wicked temper.  My Mom has told me one, two... a thousand times that she is exactly like me when I was younger.  Exactly.  Sometimes when I watch her use her finger-like toes to scale the cabinets and pull herself to the counter I see how I would would want to do the same thing... if I only had the energy.  I see myself in her as she demands a "pickle," a "tootie" a.k.a. cookie, or "joosh" a.k.a. juice.  I see myself in her when she snuggles up to her daddy to watch cartoons.  I see myself in her all of the time, and it is crazy because I think Chloe is the most beautiful specimen to walk the face of this earth.  Why, then, am I so hard on myself?  I suppose that is another post altogether.

Chloe eating her apple - one of the only foods she will ingest.

My Mom loves to tell stories of how I woke up at the crack of dawn saying "the sun's up and so am I!"  She says I was so stubborn and so determined.  I could do anything my older boy cousins could do.  I spent hours - days even - screaming at my Pogo-Ball until I could maneuver that thing around like Drew.  We have countless hours of video footage of me, "The Siren," screaming at the top of my lungs while I tried desperately to do what the boys were doing.  I always thought the videos were so depressing.  Everyone just ignored my incessant screaming.  No one asked what was wrong.  You wouldn't have been able to understand me between my hysteric breathing/screaming pattern even if I tried to tell you.  I understand it now, of course.  If they hadn't ignored me they would probably be in jail for shaking me half to death.


Chloe playing in the field and Mama begging her to look at the camera.

 It should really come to no surprise, then, that Chloe is my Mini-Me.  Most of the time she even looks exactly like me.  First of all, I think God laughs every morning when I drag my once snooze-happy ass out of my bed at 6:00 a.m. (We are sleeping in an extra half hour these days.)  Chloe is up and she is ready to play.  Ready for milk.  Mama.  Dada.  Papa.  Dora.  There is no sleepy snuggle period to transition this Mama into the morning.  Thankfully, after a vigorous training period, I have successfully addicted Chloe to Dora.  Dora has gotten us from 5:30 a.m. to 6:30 a.m. many a manana.  Gracias, Dora. 

We can't take Chloe anywhere.  I mean it.  You know that kid at the restaurant who is running around from table to table saying "hi."  If not, you haven't graced a restaurant in the same 20 minute time span as us.  That is probably because you don't eat at restaurants that have bikes and highway signs hanging from the ceilings.  We used to be you.  Taking Chloe to a restaurant is possibly the most frustrating of all outings.  She used to fall for our secret weapons - berries, crayons, cheerios, iPhones - but the enemy has evolved.  She is smarter.  Stronger.  Most trips to a restaurant involve Chloe eating only ketchup by the spoonful or handful, Chloe trying to feed us ketchup by the spoonful or handful, Chloe drinking water from cups by the handful, Chloe crawling on the table in an effort to escape, Chloe coloring the table, Chloe making a break for it and running all over the restaurant, etc.  We have never been successful in keeping Chloe in her high chair.  She has been a real-life Houdini from the start of life when she weaseled her way out of the tightest of swaddles.  We are no match for her.



Chloe climbing and Mama begging her to look at the camera.

Grocery shopping holds a close second n terms of worst possible destinations. I am always so envious of the mothers walking through the grocery store with a toddler sitting nicely in the cart, and a four year old shadowing close behind. I can count on one hand the number of times I have ventured to the grocery store alone. We usually take her together and one of us takes on the task of the actual shopping, while the other chases Chloe down isle after isle. She is usually huffing and puffing by the time we leave the grocery store because she has sprinted at least a mile.


Chloe eating corn straight from the corn maze.

Why is she like this?  You could probably come to the conclusion that it is our fault.  We let her run around so she just continues to do it.  Maybe you are right.  But I can say that since the moment Chloe could crawl she has found a way to squirm her way out of my arms and onto the floor in an effort to escape.  If we didn't let her go on her own she would have a meltdown everywhere we went.  By meltdown I mean full fledged, body slung on the ground, screaming at the top of her lungs, exorcism-style meltdown.  I prefer the happy, running around, getting into everything Chloe over the possessed, temper-tantrum Chloe any day.

Most of the time when we bring Chloe somewhere people will comment on how "busy" she is, and then by the time we leave they are shocked at her mobility and fearlessness.  They are usually chasing her around having a heart attack as she climbs the bar stools, stairs, and cabinets of their home while Paul and I watch her comfortably from afar.  She has full reign of our house now.  She goes up and down stairs upright with toys in both hands.  She strategically places her potty chair stools around the house to aid her in swiping things from counters and in opening doors.  She dances to every commercial, toy, or distant melody.  She does flips and rolls and spins wherever she goes.  She walks on her tip toes 50% of the day.  We try desperately to keep her from standing on tables, biting Griffin, and jumping on the couch.  She is a maniac, I tell you.  A maniac. 

While I wouldn't have her any other way, I do pray that this second baby is mellow like his Dada.  Chloe is a good girl, but she is so stubborn and so busy that an easy, go-with-the-flow member of the family would certainly be a welcome addition!!

Chloe giving Mama kisses :o)