From Mama to Hey Ma: The Evolution of a Name

I begged and pleaded for months for Chloe to say “mama.”  “Say mama.”  “Say mama.”  “Can you say mama?”  For months, nothing.  Then finally one day while out to dinner I thought I’d heard her say “mama” as she reached for me from across the table.  “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!” I yelled.  Had anyone else heard those sweet words?  She wanted her mama.  She needed her mama.  It sounded glorious. 

My Mom would always tell me not to worry.  I would be hearing those words soon enough.  And often.  This was coming from the woman who has been through every stage of motherhood from "mama" to "hey ma."  I should trust her.  I do trust her.  But I still wanted to hear my title – the title I earned through 37.5 weeks of pregnancy and 23 hours of labor – validated through the lips of my own daughter. 

Mama.  It was worth the wait.  But "mama" is a rookie title.  “Mama” means you probably do not know what the hell you are doing 99% of the time.  (Maybe that never changes.)  Mamas think it is stressful to take one tiny baby who is sleeping peacefully in her car seat out to dinner.  Mamas call the pediatrician once a week and their own mothers seven times a week.  Mamas buy new purses based on their capacity to hold a bottle, diaper, wipes, and change of clothes.  Mamas cannot have a normal conversation about anything other than poop consistency, swaddling, and ounces of milk.  

The thing is that mama lasts for just a short time. 

What I mean is that just last weekend Chloe was playing in the living room when all of a sudden she came sprinting toward me in the dining room.  “Mommy, mommy, mommy,” she yelled.  I couldn’t believe it.  Mommy?  I was puzzled.  Where had she learned to call me by that name?  When had she decided she would start calling me mommy?  And why?  Had I moved on to the next phase of motherhood ?  I hadn’t expected to receive a promotion so soon.  After all, I haven’t seen a qualifications list.  I didn’t even receive my annual review.

Maybe there are clear signs that show I am ready to be “mommy.”  Maybe one of the first requirements is learning that bribery is an important part of every day life.  Let’s not call it bribery.  If I were a politician I would call it a reward system.  Somehow “rewarding” your child with a grape if she puts her coat on feels far more spectacular than begging, pleading, and eventually forcing the damn thing on her body. 

For some reason my pride is undamaged if I suggest she does something I know damn well she is going to do no matter what.  “Chloe, if you get in your car seat I will let you play in the car when we get home.  You can beep the horn.  Beep , beep.”   The whole time she’s thinking, “ummm, yeah lady I was going to do that anyway, but sure, point for you.  Wink, wink.” 

Perhaps one of the requirements is that you no longer have the natural instinct to ensure six different times that your child is breathing during the night.  No, you are too busy making sure your child isn’t opening the back gate to make a break for the road.  You are too busy peeling her off of the counter top where she is attempting to touch the knives.  Too busy making her spit out pennies, dirt, crayons, and toothpaste.

Maybe being a mommy is realizing that your child is becoming independent.  She has her own thoughts and preferences, and she doesn't want to be told what to do all day.  So maybe you just let her wear a pink tutu and no shirt one day, because that is what she wants to wear.  And then maybe you let her, in her pink tutu, *gasp* eat Lucky Charms while watching Dora.  Because, who cares?  That is what I would want to do.  Hell, maybe you let her do it once per week, because not even locking your keys in your car in the freezing cold can bring you down from the high you felt that morning when your child was perfectly happy.

Maybe you let her wear her frog coat whenever she damn well pleases.  Pants optional.

 Maybe you let her play in the leaves even if you aren't 100% sure they are dog poop free.

Maybe you let her eat a ring pop while running around the house.

Maybe you trust her to hang from the edge of the pool all by herself.

The more I think about it the more I realize I am ready to be "mommy."  It is a great reminder that my little baby is not so much a baby anymore.  I realize that the next phase will be here in the blink of an eye.  Mom.  Shortly after that will come the dreaded "hey ma."  I don’t know exactly when it will happen, but I can’t help but wonder what I’ll be doing differently at the time. 

Chloe's Big Weekends

Chloe has been having some busy weekends lately, and things are not expected to slow down until baby brother comes along.  We went to visit Josh, Lydia, and Zane last weekend who live up in Traverse City.  We met Josh & Lydia a couple of years ago through my best friend Sara, and hit it off right away after meeting them.  After a long period of not making any new friends after college, we have found it to be much easier to make friends after having Chloe.  In fact, I think I have said here before that it seems almost impossible to be friends with anyone without kids.  That may be a different post entirely.  Here are a few pictures from Chloe's last few weekends. 

Daddy helped Chloe ring the bell at the apple orchard. 

Chloe and Zane posed while their Dada's gave them a little boost.  We especially liked how Chloe's side was dangerously jagged.

Chloe and Zane held hands for a brief moment in the corn maze.  We thought Chloe would be an all star at the corn maze, but it was really Zane who excelled.  He led the way, and every ten seconds we'd have to yell at him to stop and wait for Chloe who was eating kernals of corn from the ground.  Every time I turned around she had a little chipmunk cheek full of corn.  Goofy girl.

I wanted to include this picture to demonstrate what our child does before swimming class starts each Monday.  All of the other kids sit on their parents' laps while patiently waiting for class to start.  Chloe beelines it for the noodles, grabs one, and starts smacking the water.  She runs all the way around the pool getting into whatever she can find while we wait.

Here is an example of Chloe using her stool to access the faucet.

And here she is using the faucet...

Aaaaaand here she is after Mama made her come down from the faucet.

Chloe really loves getting dressed lately.  She selected a slinky red number the other night - Dada's clean underwear.  She thought she was pretty cool stuff.  Getting dressed is becoming a very, very big hurdle every morning.  Chloe has started to want to get herself dressed.  The only problem is that she hasn't quite mastered the skills required to get dressed on her own so she gets very angry!  The last few mornings have involved her throwing a Stage 5 tantrum while I chase her around getting her dressed.  I hope this phase passes quickly!

We went home over the weekend so that our families could see Chloe in her costume.  After just one quick visit Supergirl had to take a little nap. 

But it wasn't long and we were off!  We stopped to visit Great Grandma Sally & Great Grandpa Frank.  We also got to see Jeff, Paula, and Chelsea.  Grandma Sally hooked her up with a giant bag of fruit and candy, as well as a stuffed Snoopy doll.  Chloe really loved playing with Grandma Sally!

Later that night we stopped off at Aunt Kendra & Uncle Chad's house.  Paul took this picture of the kids.  It is amazing that they were once Chloe's age.  We have a hectic house to look forward to!

We rounded out the night at Uncle Drew & Aunt Shantel's house.  Andrew is Buzz this year for Halloween.  He got to put on his costume since Chloe was dressed up, too.  He "flew" around for us for about an hour.  He is such a funny boy!

Chloe loved Andrew's balloon.  She is very into balloons lately.  Unfortunately, by the time we left the balloon was just half its size.  I think she played a little too rough with it.

Andrew leaning in for a kiss!

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)



So Many Baby Bumps!

I realize that it is no coincidence I know at least fifteen pregnant women at a time.  The late 20's and early 30's are prime baby making time, and the majority of my friends are married with babies on the brain.  That being said, it is still quite shocking to see so many pregnant bellies.  Seeing my skinny, little best friend, Sara, with any kind of belly at all is quite shocking.  Right now some of my best friends from high school, college, post-college, and family are expecting or have just had a baby.  It is such an exciting time, and I feel so happy to share the experience with so many of my close friends.  I have attached a few pictures of my friends and our baby bumps that were taken with cell phones or uploaded to Facebook.  The quality is just not quite there, but you get the idea.  Babies, babies galore!

Left to Right: Sara, Me, Kellie, & Lydia

We are all due within about one month of each other.  Sara is due January 15, I am due January 6, Kellie is due around December 17, and Lydia is due around December 6, I think.


Left to Right: Lydia, Me, Sara, & Kellie



Me & Sara



Left to Right: Me, Sally, Monica (holding Emma), & Sarah

My Bradley girlfriends are all expecting together.  This picture was taken about a month ago at Sally's Harvest Party.  Monica was going to be the last to have a second baby.  She was certain of it.  But, surprise, she was the first!  She had sweet Emma on June 24, 2011.  She has one of the most shocking birth stories to tell, but she doesn't love telling it the way I do so I will keep it to myself.  Sarah is due in two days on October 13.  Sally is due in November, but I can't for the life of me think of the date.  Sorry, Sally!  I know you understand.

The Mode Life: Update

Here are the links to a few of my recent posts at The Mode Life.  One is a re-post.  I'm still waiting for some inspiration for another post.  Sometimes it is difficult to write about anything other than baby poop and pregnancy symptoms...

A Message To My Pregnant Self
THUNDER THIGHS!
Book of the Month - October

Thanks for reading!

A Rare English Dialect

For most of the summer Chloe's daycare has been comprised of mostly girls ages 2 to 4.  When Chloe first started she was one of the only girls.  It has been cute to watch her start to do "girly" things at home that she has picked up at daycare.  Her big thing is taking care of babies.  She loves babies.  LOVES babies.  Real ones and fake ones.  At daycare Chloe's favorite baby is this little black baby.  She loves it unconditionally.  She changes the baby's diaper, rocks it, kisses it, and then chucks it on the floor. (Not because the baby is black or anything, geesh.  She does this to ALL of her babies.  She abuses her babies equally.)   She often takes her babies to her reading corner at home and "reads" them books.  Or, she will feed them Cheerios. 

Usually when Chloe is hungry she will try to climb into her highchair.  One day I was staying home with her and she tried to put her baby in her high chair.  I misread her intentions and thought that she was hungry.  I put her in her chair and then she started chucking her food on the floor.  Long story short, I ended up putting her in a time out, which resulted in a waterfall of tears.  Finally, when the whole ordeal was over and I was attempting to make Chloe help me pick up the food from the floor, I watched her carefully prop her baby up on the sofa, retrieve the tiny pieces of food, and gently feed them to her baby.  I couldn't have felt like a bigger asshole.  What a sweet girl!

I got sidetracked.  What I really wanted to write about was how the other morning I dropped Chloe off to daycare.  Makenna was there already and Emma was about to walk in the door.  Makenna and Emma are about the same age and can speak in full sentences.  I would say they are BFF's.  When Emma walked in she said "Makenna, I wanna play on the seesaw."  Then Makenna said "Emma, I wanna play on the seesaw!"  This exact dialogue went on a few more times until the girls were so excited they started jumping.  As soon as the jumping ensued, Chloe, master jumper and leaper extraordinaire, came running into the room.  Chloe looked at both girls and said "yaba oohba gabba mo" which clearly meant "I wanna play on the seesaw, too!"  Unfortunately, Chloe still speaks a rare English dialect.  I'm afraid that her baby talk must have translated to "sometimes my poop has corn in it," because immediately after she said it the girls fell silent and stared at her blankly. 

At first I laughed.  Chloe didn't miss a beat.  She just turned around and ran to play with her baby by herself, but as I climbed in my car my pregnancy hormones took over and I fought back some tears.  My mind flashed forward ten years to the playground where I imagined the same scenario unfolding, and I just felt sad.  I know a certain amount of not fitting in will happen.  Heck, who am I kidding, my life was like a soap opera starting in the 3rd grade when my best friend, Shauna Hemgesberg, decided to be friends with Jessie Platt instead.  It wasn't so terrible looking back on it.  Jessie was nice enough to bully Mary Hughes into being my temporary friend until I found a new one.  And I did find new ones. 

Here I am some twenty years later a happy, married mother of soon-to-be two sweet children.  I have great friends (both old and new), a loving family, a husband who (for some reason) thinks the world of me, the world's best dog, a safe home, and a great job.  Does my heart still have a scar on it from the day Jessie Platt stole my BFF?  Yes.  Capricorns tend to hold grudges.  But guess what?  That little brat ended up being my college roomie, and we had the best year of our then lives.  I was never again friends with Shauna, because what kind of pride would I have if I had went crawling back to my ex?  So, in conclusion, it all worked out I would say.

While it would be so easy to brush off Chloe's anticipated future drama by saying "it will all work out" or "you will find new friends," I hope I can find it in my parenting skill set to put myself back in those shoes and really empathize with her.  I expect it might be tough to fight the urge to storm over to some kid's house and give her a piece of my mind.  I certainly hope that my child isn't the one doing the bullying; however, given Chloe's recent vampire-like tendencies at daycare, I'm left scratching my head about what kind of kid she will turn out to be.  Who knows?  Maybe what Chloe really said is "I vant to suck your blood," and if that is the case, I would have stared at her blankly, too.  Weirdo.

Swimming Lessons

This summer Chloe was acting very afraid of the lake and pools, which is unusual for our little daredevil.  I finally got around to signing her up for swimming lessons.   She had her first lesson last Monday.  We decided that Paul would be best suited for the parent/child class since I freak out just carrying her out on the dock at the lake.  Paul is really laid back about almost everything, including holding Chloe in the water.  It was a good thing that we had him do the lesson, too, since the water was 4'8'' deep, and considering I'm only about six inches taller than that, the lesson would have been a struggle.  Here they are anxiously waiting to get into the pool.  We couldn't put her down, because she apparently forgot she was afraid of the water over the summer, and she was ready to jump right in the pool.

For the record, Chloe does actually smile and laugh.  She just refuses to smile for the camera.  This picture of her hanging on the ledge of the pool was one of the only times during the lesson that she wasn't smiling.  Chloe did so well.  At one point the instructor urged Chloe to swim to her.  Then the instructor turned Chloe to face Paul, flipped her on her belly, and dunked her right under the water as she aided her in swimming back to Paul.  Chloe didn't cry or anything, but after seeing that I was very happy that Paul was the one doing the lesson!  When the lesson was over Chloe told us that she had fun swimming.  I think she is going to enjoy the next seven weeks!