Tales of the Newly Born

2003-06-10T10:33:00.000-04:00

Even good things need to end sometime.

When I first started writing in my diary just over a year ago I didn't really know what to expect. I barely remember that time so early in my life, but I seem to recall that I wanted to keep track of things and talk about my opinions. It was like there was this urge to catalog the happenings of the days. I've had it since I first opened my eyes and saw my Mom and my Dad. Maybe I just had a lot of time to think about things and write entries in my head while I stared at the ceiling in those first, formative weeks. Like I said, I don't remember much about that time anymore. It's all blurred.

I know from re-reading my first entry that I knew to write on the Internet because Dad whispered to me while I was in Mom's belly that the Internet was the thing to do. He would say that, since he's on the Internet most of the time. So when I told Mom and Dad about the stories I was making in my head about my life, it made a lot of sense when Dad said "you can write in a diary that on the Internet." It was fun at first, too. I had something to talk about almost every day. Everything was so new and so unexpected that I marveled at the wonder of the world.

The world slowly changed. After a few months, the wonder was still there but it didn't come as often. I knew what to expect. I had a routine. That routine included writing in my diary, but since there wasn't as many exciting things going on I found that I didn't have as much to talk about. Life was good, if a little boring. It was at this time that I wondered if I should stop writing. Since the stories in my head weren't as plentiful anymore, did I really have all that much to write about?

The world suddenly changed. It started when Nana and Grandma Tigger got Mom and Dad to give me big person food. I think that since I knew that I could eat like big people I should be able to do all sorts of other things like big people too. Lo and behold, I was right! I could do things like big people! Within a couple of months of eating from my parent's plates I could move from room to room on my own, I could pick up a fork, I could hold my own bottles, I could climb stairs, I could throw balls, I could clap and dance (OK - bounce), and I could even walk around as long as I could hold onto something like my walker. The world opened up in front of me and I realized that I could take it. I had so many more things to talk about, but now I didn't have the time to write in the diary! I was so busy doing that I couldn't find time to write about it.

For a while I tried to compensate by writing longer entries. Since I was older I could hold more concepts in my head at once. I could have Dad or Mom write huge missives about food or playing, or going to relatives' houses. At the end of last month I realized that I couldn't keep it up anymore. I didn't want to write the long entries because they were too tiring, and I didn't want to write short entries because they would sound trite. Then, around the time that I had my first 1st birthday party I found that writing itch had passed. I wasn't asking Dad to write an entry on the Internet with me anymore. I didn't care if I wrote about how the grass felt on my feet, or how the vacuum cleaner scares me because it's so loud. I didn't need to write about the triumph of conquering the stairs or the tragedy of having my parents saying "No" and finally understanding what that meant. It wasn't as important anymore to chronicle life. It was more important to live it.

This is going to be my last entry in my diary. I'm putting up the keyboard and telling Dad to turn off the Internet. I'm going to go off an learn how to run. I'm going to see what happens when I grab the bowl of cereal and turn it upside down. I'm going to figure out how to go down stairs. I'm going to live and learn and love.

Oh, and I'm going to whisper into Mom's belly so that the new baby that Mom and Dad have told me is in there will know all about the Internet and writing diaries. After all, he or she will have to have something to do while lying in the crib looking at the cei ling.

2003-06-05T22:54:00.000-04:00

I was able to go back to Patty's and play during the day, even if Mom tortured me in both the morning and the evening with the vile, nasty medicine that Dr. Meany is making me take. I'm not feeling as hot today and I feel like playing with balls and the new magnets that Mom put on the refrigerator. So I'm feeling good enough today to compile my notes about Baltimore.

Baltimore. Grandpa Bert's and Grandma Tigger's.

I have to say, first, that going on a plane is not as much fun as I remember it being. Last time I went on a plane I was perfectly content snuggling into Mom's arms and sucking on my bottle or trying to sleep. That was back when I didn't know how much fun it is to look around and wave and say "hi" to everyone that I see. Now I'm older and I know better. This presented a problem, though, because I wasn't allowed to get up and say "hi" to everyone. I couldn't show them how well I walk when I hold Mom's hands in mine. I wasn't allowed to go from aisle to aisle and brighten the passenger's day. I was relegated to Mom's lap. Sometimes I got to sit in Dad's lap too. It was horrible to be confined like this. I wanted to get up, jump around, show that I was there. But all the nice ladies who walk along the aisle in the plane said "No". I couldn't have any fun.

We met Grandpa Bert at the airport in Baltimore and we all got in his car. It was weird, though, riding in Grandpa Bert's car because my car seat in the back seat was facing forward instead of facing backwards. For the first time in my life I could see where we were going instead of looking at the sky behind us. It was very disconcerting at first - I wasn't sure what to focus on since everything I could see out the front window was coming at us so fast. Thankfully, Mom was there beside me so I could focus on her when the outside became too dizzying. We talked and laughed and sang. It was very nice.

At Grandpa Bert's and Grandma Tigger's I got to play with new toys that they had at their house that I had never seen before. They said that I could use them, but couldn't take any with me because Cousin Shannon needed to play with them when she comes over. That's fine by me since I have so many toys at home and at Patty's house. It was still nice to play with new things, like the rubber ducky and the fire engine. I got to play with Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger too. They are always fun to play with. Grandpa Bert gets down on the floor with me and makes funny noises. Grandma Tigger holds me in her arms and sings and dances. It's a grand old time at their house.

One of the downsides with traveling is that I can't sleep in my own crib. When we go to Baltimore I always have to sleep in a portable crib that is very low to the ground and doesn't have the same give in the mattress that I'm used to. This time was no exception. Since I wasn't used to the portable crib, I didn't like sleeping in it at all. As Mom and Dad know (and Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert soon remembered) when I don't like something I'll cry as long as I can until it's fixed. I tried and tried to cry them into bringing me my crib so I could sleep comfortably, but none of them would give in. Sometimes, when I got put in the portable crib, I wasn't tired and didn't want to sleep. Often, when I cried at these times I would win and get brought back downstairs to where everyone else was sitting and playing. Over the last year I've practiced my crying and have gotten to the point where I can win over half the time. That's pretty good, considering that in the first couple of months that I tried getting my way through crying I only won about a quarter of the time.

I think it was in Baltimore that I first started feeling ill, but I really didn't think anything of it at the time. Mom and Dad and Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger and I were all out at a fun restaurant called an "Afghan" restaurant. I got to play with a squeezy frog toy and a little car. I got to wave "hi" and talk to the people who were seated behind me at the bar. I also got to eat a host of different things that I hadn't eaten before. The bread was different than normal bread, the meat was very spicy, and there was this thing Mom called a pumpkin pastry that tasted pretty good. I don't think that the pumpkin pastry agreed with me, though, as my stomach started heaving and I started choking soon after I ate it. My stomach heaves were so bad that I puked up all of the yummy stuff that I had eaten. Right then and there I swore off pumpkin pastries, but since then I've thrown up a few more times and I haven't had pumpkin pastry since. So now I think that it wasn't the pumpkin that made me feel bad... I was feeling bad in Baltimore but my body hadn't told me how bad I was going to feel yet.

Mom told me on the plane that we were going to Baltimore for me. Since I was turning one year old, I needed to have a party with Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert and the Baltimore Aunties and Uncles just like I had had with Nana and Papa and the Aunties that live around my house. So on Sunday we had a party for me very much like the one that we had gone to at Auntie Sarah's house the week before. There were a few presents that Mom helped me open. There was a big family get together with food. Unfortunately, we had to hold the party without Uncle Tim and Auntie Kristin and Cousin Shannon and Brendan, since they were on vacation. It also was without Cousin Tom and Kerry-Ann because they were with their Mom and they couldn't come to the party. I noticed that they all weren't there, but I didn't mind all that much because I was still able to play with Shawn, the son of Miss Stacy (Uncle Kevin's friend).

Shawn is a great playmate. He would share toys with me and let me keep them when I wanted to keep them and let me give them back when I wanted to give them back. He is older than Ryan and Rachel, but younger that Duncan - so he was willing to play with me all the time (unlike Duncan, sometimes) but played a lot better than Ryan (who sometimes cries when I beat him in a game). Shawn would run around the house and I would crawl after him as fast as I could to try to get him. We would hug and bounce and laugh and yell and ... I can't even remember all the fun things that we did together. It was great having him around. So great that I totally forgot about birthdays or portable cribs or anything else. It was just fun to be with him.

After we were done playing I got to have cake. Last time I had cake the frosting was chocolate and the cake was yellow. This time, the frosting was yellow and the cake was chocolate. All things considered, I like the chocolate cake more than the chocolate frosting. The chocolate frosting would stick to my fingers too much when I tried to daintily pick it up. The yellow frosting, on the other hand, was a little finer and flakier - so I could daintily grab it and put it in my mouth more easily. The yellow cake was quite good, although not nearly as good as the chocolate cake. At first I thought that the chocolate cake would be gross because it was very brown, so I pushed it away. But then Dad gave me a piece on a fork and I realized that it was so very, very good. Mom and Dad chopped the cake into pieces just barely fast enough to keep up with my shoveling it into my mouth. They wanted me to chew more than I did, but it was so good that I wanted it in my mouth as fast as I could get it in there. I think I could have chocolate cake every day, if Mom and Dad allowed it.

There were all sorts of other things that we did at Grandma Tigger's house. We played piano. I visited her work. I played outside and swung on their neighbor's swing set. I played on the front porch and stuck my head through the bars of the fence that encloses it. I played on the back porch and crawled on the grass. I went on a big walk in the umbrella stroller with Dad. I laughed and talked and had a great time when I was getting my way. I whimpered and cried and was called "rotten" and had a miserable time when I didn't get my way. Overall, though, I got my way more often than not so it was really fun to be in Baltimore. I especially liked seeing Auntie First and Auntie Jill and all of Mom's Aunties and Uncles too. And, of course, seeing Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger. Seeing them is best of all.

2003-06-04T00:04:00.000-04:00

I am feeling really bad today. Up until now, whenever I've felt bad I've had a tickle. The tickle sits in a place or it runs around my body, annoying me and making me cranky. Today I am sick. Really sick. So sick that even the tickle didn't have any energy to run around in me. I woke up in the morning and my throat hurt and I felt kind of warm. I didn't want any breakfast and just wanted to drink a bottle. Mom took me to Patty's house, but I really wasn't in the mood to do anything there. So I sat around for a little bit and then I took a nap. When I got up from my nap, Patty stuck something in my ear and then called Mom and Dad. She said that I had a fever of 102.2 and that I couldn't stay with her anymore. I was being kicked out.

Dad picked me up from Patty's house and I didn't even have the energy to cry about leaving, like I usually do. I really love staying with Patty and never get to play as much or as hard when I'm at home as I do when I'm at her house. But yesterday I didn't want to play. I didn't have the energy. I just wanted to rest.

When Dad and I got home I felt a little better. I had some crackers while he had lunch, but he took the crackers away when I threw up on his lunch plate. Thankfully, I didn't hit any of his food but he took away my crackers anyway. I cried for a while after he took them, but then I just didn't have the will to continue crying and just lied on his shoulder, whimpering. I was warm and tired and didn't know why this was happening to me. What did I ever do to the fever to make it so mad at me? Eventually, Dad decided that I needed to sleep for a while. I agreed and snuggled into my crib, trying to get comfortable and stay cool and having no luck in doing either.

Dad woke me up and then took me over to Dr. Meany's house. I saw Dr. Meany but didn't cry or do anything at first. He couldn't hurt me any more than I was already hurting. The warmth was flooding over me and I was still very tired. Instead of making me lie on a table while he poked and prodded and stabbed me, Dr. Meany let me sit on Dad's lap. That made the poking and the prodding a little better, but I still cried because it hurt and I didn't want something stuck in my ear and my throat. Thankfully, Dr. Meany left the pain sticks in the container this time, so the worst of my visits with him were avoided. He told Dad that I had an infection in both of my ears and in my throat. I asked Dad what an infection was and he said it was like a tickle, but it made you sicker. I hate infections. They're mean.

When I got home I had a chance to sit with Dad for a while. He told me that I should write about my time in Baltimore but I didn't want to write anything on the Internet. He told me that we didn't have to be on the Internet to write. He got out a pad of paper and showed me how to keep a diary with it. Together we sat on the porch outside and talked about Baltimore. We made some notes together, but I told him not to write anything about it until I felt better and could review it with him. We then talked about how I felt as I sat there in the warm breeze and we wrote this diary entry up. He promised that he would enter it into the Internet for me and post it.

He seems really excited about the prospect of writing this entry after I'm in bed, but I have to say that I'm really not all that interested writing at all anymore. Maybe it's the fever or maybe it's something else, but the urge to chronicle my actions is fading now that I can actually do so much more. When I told this to Dad he seemed sad, but I made a promise to him that I'd think it over a little more after I was better to see if I wanted to quit because I was sick or because I was sick of writing. I also promised to write about Baltimore soon. Hopefully I'll be able to do that tomorrow if I'm feeling up to it.

2003-06-02T23:32:00.000-04:00

"Come on and write in your diary before we go to bed, Morgan"

"No, Dad. I'm tired from all the traveling we did today and I just want to go to bed."

"But you have to tell your story about the fun time you had at Grandma Tigger's and Grandpa Bert's. Tell about the plane rides and going to church and visiting Grandma's work and about the cake at your very own birthday party."

"I'm tired and I don't want to write in my diary. Leave me alone."

"You haven't written in almost a week. How will you remember it later on if you don't write?"

"I don't care. I don't want to write anymore. I'm going to bed."

"Don't worry about the diary tonight, Mike. Just let Morgan go to sleep. She's rubbing her eyes and has been yawning for the last 10 minutes."

"Yeah - what Mom said, Dad."

"C'mon shorty. Let's get you into your jammies and give you a bottle."

"But what about the stories? But..."

2003-05-27T23:53:00.000-04:00

Yesterday we went to Cousin Vicki's birthday party and I got a special surprise!

I hadn't remembered what a birthday party was until Dad reminded me that he and I went to a great big bash of a birthday party for Cousin Cody at Chuck E. Cheeses. Vicki's birthday party was nowhere near as extravagant as the one that Cody had. Instead of going to a big restaurant full of games and singing, we went to Auntie Sarah's house (where Cousins Vicki, Cody, and PJ live) to celebrate. When we got there we played with balloons and with dolls and got some fruit for snacks. It was much calmer than Cousin Cody's birthday party, but it was still very nice.

Birthdays, I've realized, are a lot like Christmas. Nana and Papa come in the house with huge boxes and cartons filled to the brim with wrapped gifts. Then there's a lot of ripping and tearing and oohing and aahing and everyone is very happy about what they got. Christmas = Birthday. Same thing, different season. When it was time for presents, Vicki sat in the middle of the room with Auntie Sarah and opened present after present after present. On each one she said that she loved it and it was just what she wanted. She taught me a valuable lesson that day - when you get a present be greteful and thankful. I knew it was a lesson I would keep with me for a while.

Suddenly, after Vicki's presents were done, Nana and Papa reached back behind a chair and took out a whole other set of presents that were wrapped in fun crinkly paper. I didn't know what to make of them when they set them down in front of me! I looked up at Mom and asked, "What are these for?" She told me that since my birthday was coming up soon and since we weren't going to be with Nana and Papa or Auntie Becky or Auntie Sarah on my birthday, Vicki was kind enough to let me have my birthday party on her birthday. I couldn't believe it! My birthday party!

I opened a couple of presents but then got a little bored with the paper. While Mom and Dad finished unwrapping my presents I played with a nice box that was sitting on the floor. Mom poked me a couple of times and tried to get me to remember what I had just learned about presents - thankfulness and gratefulness. I told her I'd get to it later. Right now there was a nice box to play with. She poked me again to remind me, but I didn't want to be reminded so I started crying because I was being poked. She took me in her arms and held me for a little bit and told me I should be thankful. "I will be thankful, Mom, but right now I want to play with my box," I cried back to her.

After a little time playing with the box while playing in Mom's lap, I told everyone that I was very thankful for all their presents. I thanked Auntie Sarah and Patrick and Cody and Vicki and PJ for giving me a box with a picture of a baby on a horse. I thanked Nana and Papa for giving me a new walker and some clothes. I thanked Auntie Becky and Uncle Dave and Jessie and Catelyn for giving me a table and some chairs. I'm sure they all will be fun presents.

Just because I learn a lesson doesn't mean I actually use it right away. Sometimes I need to think about the lessons for a while before I use them. I know now I need to get better at the thanking thing.

After presents we all had cake. Vicki got a whole cake with a big "4" on top. I got a slice of cake that looked as huge as a whole cake. It had a "1" on top. Everyone sang a song for both of us and then Vicki blew out the candle on top of the "4". I tried to blow out the candle on the "1", but I didn't have enough air in me. So Vicki and Jessie helped me and together we blew out the candle. Then I got to try the cake. Everyone thought that I would love the cake because the frosting was chocolate and everyone loves chocolate. I guess I'm not like everyone, because I thought the frosting was kind of sticky and not nearly as tasty as some other things I had had that day. Like the cantaloupe. The cantaloupewas better than the chocolate. Or the grapes. They were better than the chocolate too.

By the time we were done with the cake it was time to pack up and go. It had been a long day, so I was really tired and fell asleep in the car on the way home. I woke up in the car when Dad stopped at the store to get something. I got to hang out with Mom for a little while and we sang a couple of songs. It was a nice end to a nice day. A birthday. Fun!

2003-05-26T12:12:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Mom and Dad and I went to a big party where everyone was dressed up. It was called a wedding. And I liked it.

I wasn't sure what was going on when Dad got me out of the outfit that I'd been wearing all day and put me into a frilly pink outfit. I admit, I had gotten some medicine that Mom and Dad tried to give me on the front of my shirt, but a small spot like that doesn't usually merit a full outfit change. Since I've been feeling a little off recently, I cried when Dad changed the outfit. Often, when I'm on the changing table, it's a precursor to my parents trying to put me in my crib - and I really didn't want to do that. So crying on the changing table is one way to assure that I don't get put into my crib when I'm not tired. That was one reason for crying. The other was that I didn't want to be on the changing table at all.

We drove into the city and found ourselves outside a house with a big white tent next to it. There we saw all sorts of people who were dressed up in nice suits and pretty dresses. I didn't know many of the people that were there, but eventually Mom found someone she knew and we started meeting a whole lot of other people. Everyone commented on how cute I was and how well I was walking while holding onto Mom's hands with mine. I smiled at them and told them a story and then went back to walking around. Sometimes, Mom would try to pick me up and hold me. Since this was exactly what I didn't want to do I whined and cried until I got put back on the ground and got to walk again.

I've learned over the past couple of weeks that whining and crying is the way to get to do something else when you don't want to do what you're doing. It almost always works. At the wedding it worked better than it's ever worked before. Whenever I wasn't getting my way I would squirm or cry or whine and I would get to do exactly what I wanted. Is someone eating food that I want? Whine a little and Dad gives me the food. Is sitting in the chair getting old pretty fast? Two quick sobs will get me onto the floor walking through the crowd. It was great.

The wedding itself seemed like a nice party. One of Mom's friends, a lady who was wearing a white pants suit, married another of Mom's friends, a lady who was wearing a white dress. Everyone looked pretty, including the nice friend of Mom's who we sat next to during the ceremony. She was wearing a peach dress with a matching floppy peach hat. That hat looked so great that I wanted to put it on myself, so I reached up and started to pull it off of the lady, just like I do to Dad when I want to wear his baseball hat. The lady pulled back, and Mom said "No, no", so I didn't get to wear the hat after all. I tried whining a little so I could get the hat, but instead of the hat Dad gave me some money to play with. The bills were crinkly and bent like tags so I had a lot of fun playing with them.

Most of the people at the wedding were ladies and I always get the best compliments from ladies. While I like to be around men more, it's always nice for my ego to be around ladies. They are always cooing over me and telling me how cute or beautiful I am. It's nice. The wedding was no exception. All the ladies - from the ones that looked younger than Mom to the ones who looked older than Nana Wie - said I looked great. I preened a little for them and smiled my prettiest smile so they would know I appreciated their comments. Then I went back to walking and climbing steps with Mom or Dad. After all, I may like compliments, but I never let them get in the way of what I want to do when I want to do it.

2003-05-21T22:50:00.000-04:00

Today was very odd. Something happened that has never happened before, and I wanted to see it all.

This morning Mom left for work and left me home with Dad. That, in itself, isn't too odd. It's happened before. We went outside and walked around and played on the deck for a while. It was fun. Then, a little while after Mom left, Kim came over to play with me. That, too, isn't very odd. It happened last Wednesday so I'm used to it by now. No, the odd thing is that when Kim came over Dad didn't leave.

I'm very used to having one set of people around and taking care of me at any one time. Mom and Dad together or apart are normal. Patty by herself, sure. Kim and Christine hanging out with me and their friends? Absolutely. But I've never in my life been with two halves of different teams before. It felt... odd. I didn't know what to do. Should I go upstairs and play with Dad in the office? He has the nice keyboard set up that I can bang on just like he does. And he has that phone that I can use to make all of my calls. But if I did that then Kim would feel sad that I was ignoring her. She came all this way just to see me and play with me, so if I were to play with Dad I'd be a bad hostess. Would Dad feel sad if I wasn't with him, though?

In the end I decided to try to split the difference. I would play with Kim for most of the day and come up to visit Dad every now and then. This worked for a little while in the morning, but then Kim thought that I was tired and needed to take a nap. I wasn't tired and I didn't need to take a nap. Besides, if I took a nap with them both here then I'd be hurting the feelings of both of the people who were here to see me. No, I wasn't going to sleep while they were both here. Not a chance.

Dad left in the mid-morning. After he stepped out the door I admitted to Kim that I was a little tired and I asked if it was OK to take a nap. She said she didn't mind at all, since she had brought a book to read while I was napping. I knew she would be OK without me to keep her company. And even if she wasn't, I could handle hurting one person's feelings. I just couldn't live with disappointing two people that I love.

Dad came back after lunch time and together the three of us had lunch again. First lunch was pasta and red sauce. Second lunch was mac and cheese. They were both very yummy. After second lunch, Dad went back upstairs and Kim and I played downstairs. Every now and then I asked her to bring me up to play with Dad so he wouldn't feel left out. He seemed to enjoy the time with me. I had gone up to see Dad the second time when Kim decided that it was time for me to take a nap. I tried to explain to her again that I couldn't nap with both of them here, but she wouldn't listen and put me in my crib. I didn't want to be in my crib. So I yelled at the top of my lungs for her to come and get me. She came right away and we went back downstairs to play some more. This must have happened at least three times. Every time I yelled she got me and we would play again. Boy, do I know how to work her.

I know how to work Dad, too. When Kim left, Dad tried to put me in my crib but I wouldn't have anything to do with sleep. I wasn't tired at all. I wanted to play with him. I hadn't been able to spend a lot of time with him during the day because he was "working", and now that I had him all to myself I was going to take advantage of the situation. Together we played with my books and we walked around and I played with the phone. It was loads of fun.

The strangeness of the whole situation with Kim and Dad had me so worked up and nervous that I totally forgot to take my afternoon nap today. So I'm pretty tired and am going to bed now. I've had my bath and Mom has picked out the books to read to me and I'm going to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow the people around me will be in their correct positions in relation to each other. I'm supposed to go to Patty's. I hope that Mom doesn't show up in the middle of the day and hang out for a while. That would just be weird. Kind of like today.

2003-05-19T09:16:00.000-04:00

Up until now, whenever I've gone to see Nana and Papa and all the cousins I've been the youngest. Or, at least, that's what I thought. But yesterday I realized that I wasn't the youngest anymore. And I could use that to my advantage.

The youngest of the cousins that hang out at Nana and Papa's house is PJ. He was born a couple of weeks ago. He's not all that much fun to play with. In fact, it looks like he can barely see straight, let alone play. I crawled over to him a couple of times yesterday and reached out to play "Love the Baby", but Auntie Sarah or Mom pulled me back when I approached. I don't know why... I just wanted to love!

The next youngest is someone that I've seen around, but who often isn't on the same schedule as me. Catelyn is only a couple of months younger than me, and when she has been there with me either I've been asleep while she is up or she has been asleep while I've been up. I haven't been able to talk with her all that much until now. She's a fun person to talk to, but she hasn't figured out yet how much fun it is to play loud. I tried to teach her some tricks.

The first trick I tried to teach her was sharing. I like to share. Sharing is good. Especially the part where I get things. Sometimes people don't want to share right away, but I can still try to start the sharing by taking what they have. It's OK, though, because I'll give it right back. Yesterday Catelyn and I were in a padded area called a "pool" into which Auntie Becky had put a lot of big balls. Catelyn was sitting right across from me sucking on her pacifier. I looked at the pacifier and determined that I could pull on the handle (which looked like a ring) and take it out of her mouth. I could then put it in my mouth and then give it back. Sharing is like that. My plan set, I reached out to pull the pacifier when Mom grabbed my hand and pulled it back. "No, no" she said. No? No? I was trying to share, Mom! I reached again for the pacifier. This time Auntie Becky said "No". I tried again. Mom reached down and grabbed my hand and put my pacifier into my mouth. Hmmm... she foiled my plan. How could I share by putting Catelyn's pacifier in my mouth if I already had a pacifier? And how could I share mine with her if she already had one? These questions were too tricky for me, so I decided that sharing was something we could practice later.

Another game I tried to teach Catelyn was "Love the Baby". It is, after all, my favorite game. I started by reaching across the balls in the pool to put my arms around her. But I fell a little bit and ended up with my hands pushing into her chest. She's not all that sturdy (certainly not as sturdy as Mom or Dad) and she went topping back into the padding of the pool as I fell on top of her. Dad said it looked like I was trying to beat her up. But I was just bringing love, Dad! Mom pulled me off of Catelyn and I tried again. This time I didn't topple and I got my arms around her and put my head next to her shoulder. Love the baby! But I guess I'm heavier than she is because after a few seconds she sort of melted under me and I ended up on top of her again. Dad called me a bully this time. But I'm not a bully. I have love!

In the end I realized that Catelyn wasn't ready for the kind of games that I wanted to play with her. I hope she doesn't write in her diary that I was mean. I just wanted to play. After dinner I saw that the bigger kids were playing in the family room so I crawled out and joined them. They ran in circles around me - going from the couch to the chair to the pool (which had, by this time, been moved into the family room) - while I sat there and watched and screamed and played with my ball. After a little bit I got bored so I took a toy from the family room and went back into the sitting room with the adults. They were boring too, so I went back to play with the big kids.

The big kid I had the most fun with was Cousin Jessie. She is a blast! She would sit in the pool and throw balls up in the air and laugh so much that I screamed out in joy. I flopped onto the padding on the outside of the pool and screamed and screamed. Then I would sit up on my knees and look at her until she threw more balls into the air. When she did that I'd flop down and pound on the padding again and laugh and scream and have a great time. Cousin Cody asked us to be quiet since he was watching a movie, but we didn't care. We were having fun.

At the end of the night, when it was just getting dark, I put on my pajamas (well, Mom put them on for me) and headed home. I was really tired since I had had a grand old time at Nana and Papa's with the kids. I wanted to write about all of this last night but by the time I got home I had already been asleep for a while and just wanted to go back to sleep in my crib. Thankfully, I remembered everything that happened.

I can't wait to see the kids (big and little) next time we get together. It's going to be a lot of fun! Mom said it's for Cousin Vicki's birthday and that I'll get some presents too since it's so close to my birthday. I don't know what a birthday is, but if it's a good excuse for a party with the big kids then I'm there!

2003-05-18T14:31:00.000-04:00

Mom and Dad and I have a lot of games that we play when we're home together. There's "Piano Time" and "Where's Morgan's Tummy" and "No No - Don't Drop the Food". But my favorite by far is "Love the Baby".

"Love the Baby" is a game that all of us can play. It started one day when I was hugging my baby doll to my chest and rocking back and forth - just like I saw Rachel doing. Mom said "Awww, Love the Baby" and rocked back in forth just like I did. So I gave her the baby doll and she said "Love the Baby" and rocked back and forth, holding it to her chest like I did before. She was copying me! I got the baby back again and held it to my chest again and Mom said "Love the Baby" again and the game was born.

If that's all there were to the game it probably wouldn't be my favorite. That honor would probably have gone to "No No - Don't Drop the Food". However, a couple of nights later we were playing "Love the Baby" when Mom reached over and picked me up instead of the baby doll. She rocked back and forth and held me close and said "Love the Baby" into my ear. It was then that I got it. I'm the baby, so she can love me. The baby doll is the baby so I can love it. I am not just being like Rachel when I've seen her at Patty's, I'm being just like Mom. I can love the baby just like Mom loves me! What a great concept!

So now I rock back and forth with the baby doll in my arms and love it and make it feel like I feel when Mom holds me in her arms. And when Mom or Dad and I play "Love the Baby", both the baby doll and I almost always get bunches of hugs. It makes me feel all warm inside when I'm being rocked back and forth in Mom or Dad's arms. It also makes the back of my neck feel tickly when I pour my love into the baby doll. Love isn't something that you get. It's something you can give too. It feels just as nice giving the love as it does getting it in the arms of someone else. It feels different - but just as good. That's why "Love the Baby" is now my favorite game in the whole world.

2003-05-14T23:14:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I have trouble writing in my diary because I'm having so much fun that I forget to do so. Other times I forget because there's nothing much happening and I can't bear to bother Dad or Mom just so I can write "same stuff, different day". This week had been like the latter until today, when a whole lot of different stuff happened.

Today started with a surprise. I got up in the morning and ate breakfast with Mom, just like normal, but instead of going to work with her I stayed home and Dad stayed with me. That's happened before on more than a couple of occasions, so I figured it was just another Dad-day. Dad put me down for a morning nap a little early because I told him that my eyes itched and he thought I was being coy and trying to tell him I was tired. I wasn't. My eyes just itched. But rather than make a fuss about it I played in my crib for a little bit and thought about taking a nap. Then the door opened up and Dad came in... and he wasn't alone. Kim was with him!

Kim has come to my house once or twice before and it's always something special to have her here. It's like the best of both worlds - I can play with Kim all day but still sleep in my crib and have my normal food instead of sleeping on her bed or having lunch in the dining hall. We had tons of fun all throughout the day. In the morning we played with my toys like we always do. Except that when I got bored with one toy I was able to choose from all of the other toys in my toy box rather than the smattering of toys that Mom brings to Kim and Christine's house. After playing for over an hour I got tired for real and took a nap. It's so much nicer taking a nap in my own crib than it is taking a nap on Kim's bed. My crib is softer and it's got soft sides that I can snuggle against and when I wake up I can stand and hold onto the sides of the crib. Kim's bed doesn't have sides (except for the top - and that's not very soft at all).

In the afternoon I ate my new favorite lunch - pasta with sausage. It's soooooo good! I can't get enough. After the pasta I got a new fruit called cantaloupe. Mom has been pushing that on me for the past couple of days and I'm just now getting used to it enough that I can stomach it. I find that it's OK - but not anywhere near pasta and sausage or yogurt or even beans. In addition to my taking another nap, Kim and I played outside for some of the afternoon. I crawled across the driveway and Kim put my walker outside on the driveway so that I could walk as far as I wanted. I got tired well before the end and had to sit down for a while, so there was no danger of my getting hit by any of the cars that go past on our street. Daniel and Nicole from next door came by and played with us for a while... and towards the end of the afternoon Mom joined us too. I got to see Daniel ride his bike around and around the driveway, and Nicole tooled about on her scooter until she fell in a puddle at the end of the driveway and got all dirty. Her Mom yelled at her a little bit for getting dirty, but my Mom was nice and told her that she just looked like she had been practicing for soccer already. That reminded Nicole's Mom that Nicole had a soccer game and they had to go away. I was sad to see them go, so I waved bye-bye to them. They waved back and I didn't feel so sad anymore. They would miss me as much as I would miss them.

At the end of the day, after Dad came home, Papa came over to the house and then we all went to a restaurant that is near our house called "The Tavern". I like going there because the pretty ladies who come to our table always play with me and talk to me like a real person and tell me I'm cute. Tonight was no exception. The pretty lady who helped us took my sippy cup and came back with it filled with really cold water with chunks of clear cold stuff in it. While we were waiting for our food, Mom took me outside and we talked to some ladies. Then we came back in and went to the bar and said "Hello". Then we looked out the window at the lake for a while. Finally, dinner came and I got to eat ham and bread and sausage and all sorts of stuff. It was very yummy. The only sad part about the whole night is that when it ended it was so far past my normal bedtime that I got a little cranky and whiny. At least, that's what Dad said. I admit I was a little short with people towards the end, and perhaps a little demanding, but just that's because I wasn't getting what I wanted. When I started feeling really tired Mom and I walked into the bar and talked with all the old men and pretty ladies there. I don't know what it is about being social, but hanging out with people and laughing and talking with them made me perk up and not feel at all tired any more. I wonder why that happens.

I felt so good after leaving the bar area of the restaurant that when we got home I was still feeling upbeat enough to want to write in my diary. But now I'm really really sleepy and Mom is standing here next to me with a bottle that looks really good. I'm going to bed, having had an exciting day that puts the whole week in a new perspective. Having a day or two that feels like the "same old" is just fine and should be enjoyed just as much as days that are exciting and filled with the adventure, like today - if only because they make the exciting days seem even better in comparison.

2003-05-11T23:39:00.000-04:00

Today was all about Mom.

Apparently there is one day every year that your supposed to think about your Mom and talk about your Mom and do things for your Mom. That day is called "Mother's Day" and it's today. Dad told me about this special day this morning when he came in to get me out of my crib. But he told me not to tell Mom that I knew because we were going to surprise Mom. When I went in to say "Good Morning" to Mom I didn't say a word about the surprise. It was my secret with Dad.

The first part of the surprise was that Mom didn't have to help feed me or play with me this morning. Why is that such a good thing? I would think that she would love to give me some breakfast or play with me after I'm done eating. But apparently not having me around would make Mom feel good, so I went along with it. It turns out that Mom didn't really want to not have me around, she just wanted to sleep a little longer. I found that out when Dad I and I delivered the second part of the surprise - breakfast in bed! I've never seen either Mom or Dad eat in their bed before. It was a lot of fun. Dad put all of the food on a tray that sat across Mom's lap so she could just pick it off her plate and not have to move. For me, the tray was a great thing to stand up next to and I had a really fun time bouncing up and down while holding onto it. The food spilled and sloshed a little bit when I did that, but I didn't mind the crumbs on the sheets. After all, it's not my bed.

After Mom had breakfast I went back to bed for my morning nap. When I got up I found out that Mother's Day isn't just about pampering Mom, it's about spending time with Mom. Mom and I got to have lunch together (yummy pasta and sausages) and then we went for a walk down the hill to somewhere new. Whenever we've gone on walks before we usually just wandered from street to street, looking at the trees and saying "hi" to the neighbors. This time we decided to go to the town park which is down at the bottom of the big hill and across the busy street. I've never been to a park before, so it was a brand new adventure for me. First, Mom put me into a swing that's made for kids. Unfortunately, the kids that it's made for are bigger than me, so I had to hold on to the front of the swing really tightly or else I would've fallen off. We swung for a little while and I had a grand time (even if I was a little scared). After the swings Mom put me at the top of a long metal ramp called a "slide". She sat me down and then pushed me onto the ramp and I started to go down really fast. Thankfully, Mom was there at the end to catch me. I'm not sure how she got from the top to the bottom so quickly, but I'm really glad she did. It was loads of fun. I screamed on the way down and when Mom had me in her arms at the end I asked to do it again. I must've slid down the slide at least three times. Whee!

After the adventure on the slide Mom and I just hung out together for a while. We went over to the stream behind the park and watched some ducks float by. They don't look at all like the yellow birds that are in my books about ducks. I wonder if the books are wrong or if Mom was thinking of some other bird? After we watched the ducks we turned our attention to some big boys playing baseball in the field next to the park. It wasn't as exciting watching the boys as it is watching the teams that I see on TV and at the big ballpark, but it was still a great game to watch. Maybe, when I'm really big, I can play someday. I hope so.

At the end of the day I got to spend even more time with Mom. Dad had to do some work and then watch some TV show about survivors or surviving or something, so Mom and I did dinner and bath time on our own. I love having that time with Mom. She's so much better at bath time than Dad is. Mom sings to me and pats the water with me and does fun games like "rub the tummy". Dad seems more concerned with actual washing than playing during bath time.

All in all, I'm really glad that I spent so much time with my Mom today. I am really grateful to her for all the things she does for me. I show my affection for her as often as I can. Usually, the best way I can think of to let her know I care is to cry when other people take me if she is in the room. I think that shows her I love her a lot.

For me, every day is Mother's Day, because my Mom is special. Today is just the day she got a card to prove it.

2003-05-10T14:38:00.000-04:00

I've been wanting to write in my diary for a couple of days now, but there was always a reason why I couldn't.

On Thursday I wanted to write in my diary but I wasn't feeling all that hot. I got Dad to sit with me by the computer and start writing, but then I got distracted within a couple of seconds and wanted to wriggle around in his lap and do something else. An idea would come to me and then I'd see something on the floor and the idea would go away. I think all this behavior had something to do with the fact that my body still felt like there was some pressure inside of it, so I couldn't get comfortable in Dad's lap. That was made worse by the fact that I saw Mom walking around in the hallway. Every time she passed I reached out my arms and tried to get her to pick me up. She refused for a while but then she finally gave in and Dad gave up and together we scrapped the one sentence I had written in the diary.

Friday was a different story. I was feeling better, even though my nose was still running. I was excited to write in my diary about my day with Patty and all the other kids. So when I got home I called for Dad to help me with my diary. Usually he is waiting for me and Mom at the door when we drive the car into the garage. And when he's not there at the door (as happened last night), he's usually on the computer in his office - already on the Internet. I called and called for him but he didn't answer. When Mom took me upstairs to change my diaper I could see that the office was empty. Dad was gone. We waited and waited until finally Dad came home and brought some pizza with him. I ate some of the pizza and then told him I wanted to write in the diary. But he said that he was feeling sick. I felt sorry for Dad - I know it's not good feeling sick - but I really wanted to write in my diary. He said "No" and Mom took me to bed, so I didn't get a chance to write yesterday.

Today, when I got up in the morning, I wanted to write in my diary first thing out of bed. When Dad came into my room to get me out of my crib and change my diaper he didn't talk at all. When he brought me in to see Mom he talked in a whisper and Mom talked to him in a raspy voice. I didn't realize it at the time, but they were both sick! I had never seen that before. I knew that Mom could be sick sometimes - when that happens Dad takes me to Patty's house in the morning. I suppose I knew that Dad could be sick, although I hadn't seen it before. But for both of them to be sick at the same time? Unthinkable! Yet it has happened.

Dad was so sick that after breakfast he took a nap on the couch. I stood up next to him and shook a toy next to his head and screamed for him to get up but he didn't hear me. He just kept on snoring and snoring. After a little while I realized I needed to take a nap like Dad, so Mom brought me up to my crib and I slept for a long time. I guess that Mom must've taken a nap too, because Dad and I found her asleep in bed after he and I got up from our naps. Dad still felt really sick - even after his nap - so he repeatedly said he wasn't going to help me write in my diary. He said he was too sick. But I finally wore him down and now I'm writing in my diary. I win again!

By now I've written so much in my diary today about writing in my diary that I've forgotten what I was even going to write in the first place. Oh, well. Maybe I'll remember tomorrow and maybe Dad won't still be sick. Of course, even if he is, I now know that it just takes a lot of pestering for him to do what I want. Mom and Dad always say that you learn something new every day. What a great lesson to learn!

2003-05-07T08:48:00.000-04:00

Everything is going great, but I'm not feeling so good this week.

I've been playing with my new walker (what I'm now calling the contraption that I talked about last time... it helps me walk, so it's a "walker") a lot and I've also been playing with my new piano. The piano isn't like the one at Grandma Tigger's and Nana's house. Those are really long and have so many keys that it's difficult to figure out what one to hit next. No, this piano has 4 big keys on it and makes a "tink" sound when you hit the key rather than a "blemp" sound on Grandma Tigger's piano. When I first got my new piano I hit the keys at random by just slamming my hand into them. But then I noticed that the piano made a lot better noise when Mom and Dad pressed one key at a time with their fingers. They would hit one key with one finger and then another key with another finger and the piano would play a song rather than just going "tink-thank-tink". It was really nice. So I decided that I would be like Mom and Dad and play the piano like they do. Except that my fingers aren't as strong as theirs are, so the key wouldn't hit the "tink" when I pressed the button. I tried two fingers, but that didn't work either. In the end I figure out that if I held my arm out and moved it up and down so that my entire hand hit the key I could play the piano. I'm not banging the piano with my hands any more (palm splayed out with fingers extended)... with this new method I'm not moving my hand at all (fingers at rest pointed down) but just using it to play properly. I have to say, I'm quite pleased by the results and can put together a few notes into a song all by myself.

But for all of these successes I've been brought down a bit by another stupid cold. This time there is no tickle that runs up and down from my head to my feet. Instead there is just a dull ache that doesn't hurt so much but is making me pretty uncomfortable. It's like my body is full and there's a little pressure on my skin from the inside. It's hard to explain. I know that the idea of my body being full is true because I'm leaking a lot from my nose again. That doesn't happen all that often when I'm not feeling sick.

This sickness has made me want to be near people more. I want to be held as much as possible because I think that maybe they will make the ache go away. Strangely enough, when I get picked up from the floor and put in someone's arms I do feel better for a minute. It's as if the pressure inside changes when I go from floor level to shoulder level on adults. But then, after a minute, the pressure is back and I feel uncomfortable again. So I need to squirm out of their arms and go somewhere else. If only I could be in a place where I'm always going up or down. Maybe then the sickness wouldn't be able to keep up with me and I'd be better. But that's probably silly. I have a feeling that this sickness is smarter than that.

2003-05-04T22:03:00.000-04:00

I can walk! I can walk!

This weekend was a banner time for me. Mom went out on Saturday morning while Dad and I hung out together. I didn't know where she went but that was OK, because Dad and I had a pretty good time. I took a nap and when I got up Mom was back and she had all of this new stuff with her. There were new books and toys and things that I've seen but she hasn't let me play with yet. But the best thing - the absolute best thing - that she brought home was a little four wheeled contraption with a handle at just my height.

At first I wasn't sure what to make of the contraption. I crawled over to it and got on my knees next to it so I could grab the handle. It rocked on its wheels a little bit. But then Dad said, "stand up" and took my hand to help me to my feet. He put my hand back on the handle and told me to go to Mom. She was all the way across the room. I didn't understand and looked up at Dad in confusion, but he just said, "go on." I shuffled my feet a bit and the contraption moved! I got thrown a little bit off balance by this movement so I took a step forward and it moved some more! I held onto the handle as firmly as I could. My balance still wasn't great, so I took another step and the contraption moved again!. Mom laughed and clapped from across the room. "Come on, shorty!" she called to me.

I looked down. I looked up at Mom. I wobbled and had to step forward again to keep my balance. This time, though, I needed to take a couple of steps to not fall. Holding the handle helped a lot. Suddenly, I was halfway across the room because my couple of steps had turned into six or seven. I couldn't believe it. I was moving! Without anyone's help! I smiled. A lot.

When I got to Mom she picked me up and said "Great job, Morgan!" She laughed and so did Dad. I must've been smiling a lot because they were happy. But it didn't really hit me right then. I only realized the full extent of what was happening when Mom and Dad put me down next to the contraption and pointed me towards the end of the hall. I stepped off and held my weight on the handle. Another step. Then another. I knew exactly what this was... I was walking on my own! At last I could walk!

Mom and Dad and I played at this walking game for about an hour before we had to pack up and go to the baseball game at Fenway Park. I've been to the baseball field before, so I knew exactly what to do at the game. I clapped and cheered with the rest of the people there. Last time we went, though, we sat in the bottom of the stadium, pretty close to the field. This time we stayed above the field and watched the game from there. Last time we sat in seats surrounded by a lot of other people. This time, though, we were in our own room with Mr. Richard and Ms. Sandy and their friends Mr. Paul and Ms. Dale. I hear it's called a "suite" and it was nice. I was able to watch the game from Ms. Dale's lap or with Ms. Sandy next to the railing, and I was also able to take breaks and crawl around on the floor and watch the game on TV. It's a lot of fun to go to the ballgame.

But it's more fun to walk. Both last night and this morning I crawled over to the walking contraption and pulled myself up so I stood next to the handle. Then I would go. I still need Dad and Mom's help to turn the contraption around when I run into something, but as long as I've got a nice straight line I can go anywhere. I can feel myself smiling as I walk, I'm so happy to be going on my own. I've even started practicing my running a little bit, but it's a lot harder keeping my balance going fast than it is going slow. I plan on practicing as much as I can and pretty soon I'll bet I'll even be able to walk without the contraption at all. But in the meantime this is just as good!

2003-05-02T09:14:00.000-04:00

Every night is a party and I'm invited!

Well, OK, not every night. But the last two nights were big dinner-party events that Mom and I went to. The first event was one with all of my friends that I hang out with at Kim and Christine's. They are also the people that we see when Mom and I go to some meetings at night. The group is called "RHA" and is filled with people who like to hang out together and go to big meetings and have parties. They're pretty great. Everyone at the meetings loves having me around so much that they've let me become a member. I have my own "RHA" shirt, and everything! I even speak at their meetings and vote like they do. Admittedly, I sometimes speak out when no one is paying attention to me and I vote even when no one is asking for votes, but it's the thought that counts, right?

RHA's party on Wednesday was a great event. I went to the party early as they were setting things up because Christine and Kim were some of the people who had to make sure the room was all put together properly. Since they had to do work at the event I got passed to some of my friends who held me and sang to me and showed me to some of their friends that I hadn't seen before. After a while, though, I got tired and fell asleep in one of my friends arms. Maybe it was Mark or Jason or I don't know because I was so tired. Even thought the party started slow for me, when I woke up and saw that Mom was there it really kicked into high gear. I said "Hi" to Mom and got some nice hugs before Shrudi (one of my friends) took me and let me have some of her food from her plate. I had pasta and sauce (which is fast becoming a favorite food) as well as some chicken parmesan and a cookie. It was great. I talked with a lot of people at my table and banged on the table some. During the party some Kim and Christine both stood up and talked and gave other people presents. Some people got a flower called a rose, and Mom was so popular that she got 6 of them. I was pretty popular too, since I got strings of beads that my friends draped around my neck. It was a great time.

Last night there was another party filled with even more people - many of whom I didn't know at all. Mom and I sat with Miss Jess and Mom's boss Beth. We had fun chatting about girl things and food. Everyone talks about food when they're around me. That and how cute I am. Since people were talking about food I asked Mom if I could have some and she said "Yes". So I got to have some oranges and a new fruit called watermelon. It was cool and sort of springy and went down easily. Mom says Dad loves watermelon a lot and there will be plenty of it around the house in the summer. I hope so, because it was pretty good. After eating, some people that I didn't know got up on the stage and started talking at us. Then people clapped really loudly. I looked around for a moment and realized that they were clapping so I started clapping too. But by that time they had all stopped clapping, so I was sort of clapping by myself. Then another person spoke to us. I have always been taught that you're not just supposed to sit there and listen when someone talks to you, but rather you're supposed to engage them in conversation. So I did. Mom tried to shush me, but I was being very polite and talked back to the person. I guess Mom didn't want to talk to the person because she and I went out into the lobby as the person was still talking and we looked at the big mirrors on the side of the room. I like mirrors that I can stand next to and touch. I keep trying to catch my reflection (or, as Mom calls it, "the baby in the mirror") but can never quite do it. Someday.

Towards the end of the party we went back into the room and saw that the person who I talked to was giving out awards. The last award was for best organization and the person said that RHA won! Kim and Christine and Mark and Jason and all my friends were so happy! They went up on stage and smiled and laughed. Then, after the award was given, they all came over to Mom and me and talked really fast about anything that came to mind. Mom passed me to my friends and I got passed and passed and passed around until I didn't even know where Mom was anymore. But that was OK, because I was still with my friends.

I asked Mom and Dad what party we're going to tonight. They said tonight is a nice night at home. Truth to tell, that is kind of a relief. I like going to parties a lot, but after a while it's nice just to play on the floor with Mom and Dad at night rather than mingling with people. Partying is great, but spending time with my family is even better.

2003-04-29T22:56:00.000-04:00

It's been a strange month. First it was cold - so cold that it snowed. Then it was warm enough for me to go outside without a jacket. Then it was cold again. Then rainy. Then warm. Today it was as warm as I remember it being in the best of the summer. I was so confused. So I asked Dad what was going on.

"It's spring," he said. He didn't say anything more. It was as if he thought that covered it. But I was still confused. So I asked him about spring. He said spring was where it was cold then warm then cold then warm then cool then hot then cool then warm. This didn't help at all. In fact, I had already figured that part out. So I asked him about it again. He started going on about rotating globes and things being close to the sun. He picked up my ball and circled around me to try to illustrate the concept but I didn't care at that point. I held my arms out as he circled and said "me mei may" so that he would give me the ball and I could play with it.

Later on today, when we were going for a walk over the rutted muddy paths behind our house, I asked him about the weather again but told him not to give me any mumbo-jumbo about rotation or solstices or apogees or anything. He said he had just the thing for me. So when we got home he got out my slinky and started.

"This is a spring," he said while holding the slinky up. "Springs go up and down just like this does. That's what the season spring does too. It makes the weather go up and down."

"That slinky doesn't go up and down, Dad." I reached for the slinky in his hands. "You just move it from one hand to another and it makes a noise. Can I have it now?"

Dad looked at the slinky. He conceded that I had a point that the slinky didn't go up and down. So he took one end of the slinky and taped it to the top of a doorframe and let the slinky fall so one piece was still connected to the door put the other end fell to a couple of feet from the floor. "This is a spring," he said as he let it go. It fell and then went back up and then fell again. "They named the season 'spring' because it's like this - the weather goes up and down." I crawled over to the slinky. He pulled it down some. "When the weather gets warmer its like when the spring goes towards the ground." I grabbed the slinky as it fell to the floor and caught the bottom end in one of my hands. I stuck that end into my mouth. Mmmmm... spring tastes good when it's warm.

Dad took the slinky away from me and pushed it back up. "When the spring goes up it's like when the weather gets cooler." He let the slinky go. I tried to catch it when it came down towards me but I was too slow and it bounced back up. Then it came down again and I tried to catch it again.

"Give me warm spring, Dad!" I cried as I missed the slinky on this pass again. The spring went back up like the weather did when it became cool. "Gimme warm spring!" I held my arms out and waited for the slinky. I missed again and started crying. I wanted the slinky. I wanted warm spring! I didn't want to have the cold again because I like playing with the slinky and putting it in my mouth.

Finally Dad was done with his little "object lesson" and pushed the slinky down so I could grab the end. Yay for slinky! I stopped crying and laughed and shook the slinky. It made a funny noise and bounced up and down - but I had hold of it so it wasn't really going anywhere. If only I could hold spring and make it warm all the time.

At least now I know it is supposed to get warmer and colder like this. There is a reason. And I'm encouraged by the fact that if you get bored with the slinky and let it bounce until it comes to rest it stays extended almost to the floor... in the "warm" position. So maybe spring won't be so bad after all.

2003-04-27T20:41:00.000-04:00

Food! Glorious food!

For my entire life I've been eating things that adults have given me. First Mom would only give me milk and formula. I fought with them about it, but I couldn't win. Then Mom and Dad let me eat cereal in the morning. That was a move in the right direction, but I didn't get to choose the type of cereal or whether it was hot or cold. I only got to choose when I had enough (and even that was a fight, sometimes). Later still Mom and Dad and Patty gave me food out of a jar. Suddenly a whole new gamut of tastes were open to me. At first there was just sweet potatoes and carrots and beans. But later the tastes expanded to apples and peaches and bits of other things ground up and mixed with the familiar stuff.

A couple of months ago the world began to more fully open to me. Mom and Dad gave me stuff from their plates. Nana introduced me to Cheerios. Patty let me have cookies and crackers. I still had food from the jars and I liked the food from the jars, but I suddenly had more options. I was still getting a bottle, too. But now I also had a sippy cup filled with water so I didn't have to go thirsty anymore. (Truth to tell, I didn't even know I was thirsty until I had the option of having water. Now I know I'm thirsty and ask for my cup when Rachel and Ryan sit in the kitchen with their cups in a little circle around the sink.)

This weekend it hit me... I don't have to eat out of a jar at all. Sure, sometimes it's just what I'm looking for, but it's not something I need. In fact, if I don't eat out of a jar I'll still get food. And the best part is, it's delicious food right from Mom and Dad's plates. All I have to do is ask!

The realization first came to me yesterday when we were at Mr. Myles and Ms. Jen's house. They were friends from way back that I hadn't seen in a long time. In fact, I think I hadn't seen them since last summer. That is a really long time! Anyway, we were at their house and I smelled and saw all the yummy things that were being cooked and placed on the table. I realized that I was kind of hungry and asked nicely for something from the table. Mom and Dad weren't ready for supper-in-a-jar yet so I go bread. Yummy delicious crusty bread. I grabbed a piece and gnawed at it for a little bit and crawled around with it in my hand. Then I grabbed the crusty part with my front teeth, tore the crust off, and chewed and chewed and chewed. It was great. Then came the pasta. This was pasta with pesto sauce and it was unlike any other pasta taste I've had before. It's indescribably good, so I won't even try to talk about it. I especially liked how this pasta was like strings - except these strings I could eat.

After a little pasta Mom tried to give me beans. I love my beans. Yummy beans. I ate a little bit of them and they tasted good. But then I looked at the table and wanted some other things that were on it. The beans weren't all that appetizing any more. I closed my mouth and put up my arms and fended off the beans. Mom looked shocked. I always loved my beans and now I was rejecting them? "Me may me," I said, pointing at the table while fending off the beans. Soon enough Mom and Dad put the beans away and gave me more pasta and chicken and water from a cup. Awesome!

I tried the trick again this afternoon when I was getting sweet potatoes. I like sweet potatoes just fine, but I didn't want any. I wanted something from Dad and Mom's plate. So I got a piece of English muffin, part of a pancake, a little egg, and some water. I also got sweet potatoes but a lot of them fell on my tray. Finger painting! Yay!

This evening Mom and Dad tried to give me beans again after giving me some of the pasta and sausages that they were having. I ate a couple of bites, but the beans couldn't compare to the tomato sauce on the pasta rings. And that sausage was out of this world! How would anyone want to choose cold green beans from a jar when they could have these wonders of the kitchen? Why would Mom and Dad think I would want jarred food when they don't want it? Down with the tyranny of the jar! Bring on the real food!

I'm going to try working on my new-found freedom at Patty's house now. Ryan and Rachel and Duncan don't eat food that comes from a jar. I'm going to try to convince her that I shouldn't either. Even though I actually eat the food out of a dish at her house (as compared to home where it's right out of the jar) I still know that the food came from a jar. The problem with Patty, though, is that she doesn't listen to me as attentively as Mom and Dad. With them I know I can get my way. With her I could go into Time Out if I push too far too fast. But, even so, my new mantra is "No jarred food". Even if it's yummy, I'm just going to say "No".

I hope I can say "No" to Patty and still be a good girl.

2003-04-24T23:54:00.000-04:00

It's hard being quiet when you have so much to say!

I been practicing my talking a lot recently. Whenever anyone says something to me I say something back to them. They usually nod and say something like "and then what happened?" That's my cue to explain some more. Often after my additional explanation they say something like "Really". I can tell that they're getting what I'm saying. Sometimes I need to practice by myself. When I'm not sure of the words I want to say or if I think I need to work on my storytelling technique I'll sit by myself and mumble or just carry on a conversation with no one in particular. This helps me make sure that I'm doing it right. It all sounds good to me.

Sometimes, though, even with my practicing I don't get the talking quite right. I can see it in the other person's eyes. They don't understand. Even though I know exactly what I'm saying the other person doesn't have a clue. I've been trying to figure out why this might be the case. Is it my enunciation? Am I not using the right word in the right way? Is it my tenses? After much thought I've come to the conclusion that it's my inflection. I'm not emphasizing the right thing at the right time. So I'm working with volume and sentence length to see if I can better get my point across. I've started this process by trying really loud and really short sentences.

Loud and short seems to be working. Whereas people sometimes ignore me or talk right past me when I speak in long, convoluted sentences, short and piercing makes everyone's head turn. I know that I'm the center of attention when I'm shouting a quick command. And it feels good.

Sometimes Mom or Dad or Patty tell me to shush when they think I'm being too loud. They've been trying to tell me that "inside voice" is much better in conversation. I have yet to see it. My ear-shattering screams get me whatever I want. More food more quickly? Scream really loud. Someone isn't paying attention to me and is watching the TV instead? (Yes, Dad, I'm talking about you...) Well, a good, crisp, intensely loud and punctuated command will make sure that I'm the one who is watched - not the TV. If I'm awake in my crib at Patty's house and no one else is but I want someone to talk to? A well timed shriek is sure to get Ryan up and talking to me. At the very least, if that doesn't work, I know Patty will come and pick me up. Screeching is fun and gets results.

Ryan and I love to talk to each other in as loud a voice as possible. This makes Patty really come in quickly if she's not in the room and it makes Duncan put his hands over his ears. Rachel can sleep through almost anything, but Ryan and my conversations will even get her up from a sleep. I agree with Ryan that louder is better when it comes to communication. It's nice to have a comrade who will stand with me against the shushing tyranny of the adults and their "inside voice". Maybe someday I'll try a different volume in my quest for perfect inflection in communication. But for now loud works, and I'm sticking with it.

2003-04-22T09:52:00.000-04:00

I was going to write about this weekend and seeing a lot of cousins and Aunties and everyone. But then I fell and hurt myself and I've forgotten what I was going to write about.

I fell because I was trying to do what Mom and Dad taught me to do. This weekend (in and amongst all the family stuff that happened) Mom and I went out on the front porch and played in the sun with something called "bubbles". It was really neat. She had this little yellow bottle and she took a stick with a round hole at the end out of the bottle and blew through it. Little clear spheres came out of the hole and floated in the breeze. I tried to chase them with my arms but they floated away too quickly. So Mom and I just watched them go and then Mom blew some more. Bubbles are fun!

Also this weekend Dad taught me how to climb the stairs. Up until now I would crawl over to the bottom of the stairs and stand up next to them. Often I could hear someone upstairs so I would call out to them to come down and play with me. "T-heh," I would call. But this weekend Dad showed me that if I put my knee up onto one of the stairs and then pulled my other leg up I could move up the stairs really easily. He held my hands while I climbed, so we did it together and got over half-way up the stairs before I got tired. Climbing stairs is fun and easy!

This morning, when I crawled over to the stairs and saw the bubble bottle on the third or fourth stair, I thought to myself, "I'll bet I can get the bubbles and I can blow them just like Mom did." Mom and Dad weren't around at all, so I couldn't point to the bottle and tell them to get it for me. I would have to do it myself. I put my knee up on the stair and pulled my other leg up and stood. I was on the first stair! I did it again. Second stair! Now I could reach the bottle. I grabbed it in my hand, but as I was doing so I felt my balance go. That happens sometimes when I try to grab something with a hand I'm using to keep myself standing. I dropped the bottle and tried to grab the stair, but it was too late and I went down onto my butt.

Or, at least, that's what should've happened. It's what has always happened before. But I've never fallen on stairs before and today I learned that stairs are different than other places. The floor isn't where it's supposed to be. When I fell I was expecting to hit my butt but instead I flipped and slid down two stairs and ended up on my belly. On the way down I hit almost everything but my butt. I felt my leg and arm get hit in the wrong place. My back got a little hurt. And my head hurt a lot. I think I really hit it hard. It's tough to recall the actual falling piece, though. It's like that part of my memory got fuzzy and fades in and out of my recollection. I ended up on the floor on my belly with the bottle of bubbles lying to one side of me. I was down.

Mom and Dad came running to see me pretty quickly. At first I didn't really recognize them. The pain was making everything else fade out. And for some reason my eyes didn't want to track them very well. But after a couple of minutes that cleared up and I just felt the pain. Dad took me over to look out the window and I grabbed my chimes, which made me feel happier even though I was still crying. Mom took me and we rested together on the couch. I just snuggled into her arms and felt the pain ease out of my body. It was very soothing. Dad grabbed a toy and did a funny thing by putting it in his mouth and shaking it around. It made me smile a little and I kicked my heels together. But I didn't really want to move much since it felt so nice with Mom's arms wrapped tight around me.

Now I know that stairs don't have a floor under them. That's good to know. So the next time I try to climb I'll remember not to fall. I hope.

Oh yeah - I just remembered what I was going to write about family this weekend. I went to Nana and Papa's house and met someone new: Great Nana Wie. She is Nana's Mom and looks really old - a lot like Great Papa did. Her face has these lines all over it and I can pull her skin more than I can pull Mom's or Nana's. Nana Wie is a really fun person to play with, though. I got to play with her both on Sunday when we were down at Nana's house and yesterday when she and Nana and Papa came up here to be with us. I hope I get to see Nana Wie again soon, as she was really nice to me. I hope I can remember more about this weekend once the rest of the pain goes away. I really want to write about playing cards and blowing pinwheels and seeing Catelyn and everything.

2003-04-18T21:47:00.000-04:00

Mom and Dad say I flirt. But I think I'm just being friendly.

Whenever we go out somewhere, Mom and Dad sit on either side of my high-chair and watch over me. They make sure I'm not thirsty or hungry or bored or don't have a toy to play with. It's great. Because all of my needs are taken care of I have time to look around at all the people around me and see what's going on. Usually when I look at someone they smile at me. Especially the pretty ladies who come to the table and give us food and drinks. But even though the pretty ladies are nice, I like to watch the men.

There's something about seeing a man smile at me that brightens up my whole day. I don't know what it is. Maybe I just like the ruggedness instead of the softer features of women. Maybe they smell better to me. I don't know. All I know is that, while I like being around any person, I like being around men more. Because of this Mom says I flirt. Not true. I just have preferences.

Tonight, for instance, Mom and Dad and I were at this restaurant named "Friendly's". I thought that meant that you had to be friendly in order to get in the door. So I was. I sat in my chair and looked around the room for someone to be friendly with. Down at the end of the aisle I saw him - a boy about my age that was sitting in a high-chair just like mine. I raised my hand and turned it so that I could see my palm and waved at him. He didn't see me. So I talked a little to him and waved some more. He still didn't see me. Finally I thought he was going to see me when he dropped something on the floor and looked down the aisle toward me, but alas he didn't even notice me at all. Oh well. His loss.

I turned my attention to someone that could appreciate my generous personality and cuteness. An older man like Papa or Grandpa Bert was sitting with an older woman like Nana or Grandma Tigger in the booth behind Mom. After I gave up on the boy down the aisle I turned my attention to them. I saw that the woman was smiling at me so I smiled back at her. Then I waved when I saw her wave and said "Hi" when she noticed me. She was nice. I stood on Mom's lap so I could peek over the booth at the two of them and be friendly. It was, after all, the rule of the place. When I poked my head over the booth the man turned around and I saw that he was a very nice person, indeed. His face was the kind that looked trustworthy and his voice was deep and strong. I smiled bigger at him. After peeking over the booth for a little while Mom and I went to the nearby glass door and looked out the window. When we turned back around we saw that the man and the woman were looking at us. I waved again at them and together Mom and I went to say "Hi".

While both the man and the woman were nice, I thought the man was really nice so I squirmed out of Mom's arms and into his. He was fun to be with. He had funny glasses like Dad's and Papa's. I tried to grab them but he was too quick and pulled away. I then saw that he had stuff in his pocket. It looked like fun stuff so I grabbed something out and looked at it. It was a pen. Mom took it away from me almost immediately, so I had to go back to the pocket to try to take the book that I saw there. The man laughed a little at my overt friendliness and Mom pulled me away. But he said it was fine and that I was cute and I smiled at him and waved again. He was a fun man. After a little bit I got to be held by the woman too, but she wasn't as interesting as the man, so I only stayed in her arms for a couple of minutes.

The pattern is the same no matter where I go. I hang out with the girls, but I am drawn to the boys as soon as I see them. I just like the way they smile - whether they are 6 months old or 60 years old. Boys are fun to be around. I'm not a flirt. I just know what I like.

2003-04-16T13:00:00.000-04:00

I know how to be a good girl. I don't want to be in Time Out.

When I go over to Patty's house for the day I'm with the other kids all the time - Ryan and Rachel and Duncan and sometimes Emma. With all of us kids there (and all of the other kids running around and acting like wild monkeys all the time) Patty needs a place to put one of us when we get into trouble or when we just need to calm down. That place is Time Out.

Up until now Time Out has been rarely used at all. I've never even been there, myself. Duncan is always pretty good and almost never goes there. But over the past couple of months both Ryan and Rachel (and sometimes Emma) have been getting rowdier and rowdier. I've noticed that the change started happening when Patty would talk to them and they would sass Patty back. Sometimes, when he's being rowdy or doesn't get what he wants, Ryan drops to the floor and kicks and cries. When that happens Patty puts him in Time-Out. Rachel has started to get a little meaner every day for some reason. She and I have always been friends, but yesterday she pushed me and Ryan over onto the floor for no reason. She was so mean and so bratty that Patty put her in Time Out for almost the entire day. When Rachel pushed me over I hit my head on the floor and it hurt really bad. It hurt so much that I started crying really hard - even though I know that sometimes crying can lead to Time Out. I needed to cry because it felt like there was a big, warm, throbbing hurt on my forehead. After Rachel went into Time Out that time Patty came and picked me up and soothed me so that it didn't hurt quite as much. That's when I learned that crying doesn't put you in Time Out. Being a bad girl does.

I'm a good girl. Sometimes I do bad girl things, like sitting up and talking to Ryan when it's nap time. Or when I try to take things that don't belong to me. But I'm learning, now that I can explore so much more space, what I can find that makes me a bad girl and what is fair game and keeps me a good girl. For instance, at home I know now that the books on the bookshelf in the kitchen are "No No" things. That means that if I want to crawl over to the bookshelf I can do so. It means that if I want to use the bookshelf to pull myself up into a standing position I can do so. But if I start grabbing the books and pulling them down I'm being a bad girl. I know I'm being bad when I hear "No, No" or just a very menacing and serious "Morgan". When I look up at Mom or Dad as I'm being bad I see that they are shaking their heads back and forth while they are saying "No No". So "No" and shaking the head means bad girl. And Bad girls go into Time Out.

Another thing that I've learned is a "No" place is the CD holder next to the TV stand. Just as with the bookcase in the kitchen, I can crawl up to it and stand next to it. But as soon as I pull a CD out of the rack I'm being bad. A few days ago I was playing with some toys around one of the CD holders and I had my back to the CDs. One of my toys went behind me, so I reached back and tried to get it. In so doing I touched the CDs. They felt like fun. They called to me that I should pull them down. But then I thought for a minute about what a good girl would do. Good girls don't pull CDs down. I shook my head from side to side, as I could hear in my head a voice saying "No No". I looked behind me and found the toys and didn't pull the CDs at all. I wasn't bad. I wasn't going into Time Out.

I'm a good girl. I've always been a good girl. I try hard to stay a good girl. I share and play and don't touch things I'm not supposed to. Except, maybe, Dad's glasses. Even though he says "No" when I touch his glasses he doesn't really mean it. I can see it in his eyes. And those eyes are so much easier to read without his glasses on.

2003-04-14T08:41:00.000-04:00

I'm walking!

OK, so it's a little bit of a stretch to say that I am walking like everyone else does. I'm putting one foot in front of the other and I'm moving. But the word "I" should really be the word "we". This is because, while I can't walk all by myself, if I have help I can get around pretty well.

My first helper this weekend was Dad. We were sitting in the kitchen this weekend, playing with the dust on the floor, when I decided to use him to stand up. I've gotten pretty good at that by now - I can stand up next to almost anything at this point. When I got to a standing position I heard Mom saying something in the family room and wanted to go and investigate. I was turning around a little bit so that I could keep my balance on Dad while finding Mom when Dad grabbed my hand and stood up himself. I had a little trouble balancing myself only holding on to one of his hands, so he grabbed my other hand and I was fine. I could still hear Mom in the other room so I took a step toward her. I didn't fall! Then I took another step. I moved forward but didn't drop to my butt at all. Having two things to hold onto (namely Dad's hands) was a big help.

I could still hear Mom in the other room. I had taken two steps, but I wanted more. I thought on all of the other times that I've seen people walking and figured out what to do. Just take one step at a time, but don't think too much about it. So I stepped off, still holding Dad's hands, and stepped and stepped and stepped and...

It was easy. Step. Step. Step step step. Dad held my hands so I could have my balance and I did most of the work in moving forward. Dad had to walk forward himself to be able to constantly keep up with me, but he didn't seem to have any problem with that. I walked from the kitchen to the family room in almost as little time as it would take for me to crawl from the kitchen to the family room. I was doing it! Walking! I got into the family room Mom was there smiling and saying how big I was. I beamed even more. Mom was proud of me!

So now I know what it's like. I can get help from Mom or Dad any old time I want or I can try it on my own. If I want to walk around I can just ask and one of them will take my hands and walk with me. Or, when I'm feeling especially daring, I can stand up and see if I can get from one place to another without holding anything. That's going to be a lot tougher, but if I practice with others first it might not be so bad. After all, standing on my own was a cinch once I got the hang of it.

2003-04-12T16:08:00.000-04:00

I tried a new taste today - chicken noodle - and I didn't like it much. Thankfully I was able to push it away and get some carrots for lunch instead. Chicken Noodle is really the only new thing that I can think of that I have found in the past couple of days. That said, some old things came up that were quite interesting in and of themselves. At least, I thought so.

The main old thing that has come back is the tickle. I thought I had conquered the tickle a month or so ago, since I haven't been sick in a while. But, even though I had almost completely forgotten about the tickle, it would seem that it's back. This time I don't think that the tickle is causing me to feel achy or feverish like before. It's tough to say because sometimes I feel cold and sometimes I feel warm and it doesn't seem to have anything to do with a tickle - it has to do with the temperature of the house. Anyway, this time the tickle is sitting in my pants again. I can feel it burning and itching down there and I can't do much at all about it.

Actually, I realized a couple of days ago that I can do something about the tickle - I can tell Mom and Dad to help make it stop bothering me. They have this great balm that makes the tickle go away for a while, but the balm seems to fade in effectiveness over time. It also seems to fade when I fill my diaper with either pee or poop. When the balm fades the tickle comes back with a vengeance. It's as if it wants to burn and itch even more fiercely to make up for the time it lost while the balm was there. I hate the tickle; it's so mean.

For the past couple of nights I've been fast asleep when I get awakened by the awful tickle. It feels so uncomfortable that I need to sit up. It's still dark outside when this happens and I know that I'm still supposed to be asleep. But it hurts so much that I can't stay asleep. Two nights ago, I called out to Mom and Dad so they could get the balm and put it on so that I could go back to sleep. Sometimes, when they are very tired, they don't understand things so well. They thought that I wanted to get up and play and start my day. But I just wanted the balm to make the tickle stop its burning. When Mom got me she gave me a bottle because she thought I was hungry. I eagerly took it since I was feeling a little like eating. She then let me roll around on the bed with her and Dad. I'm sure that they thought that I was just trying to play around, but I was really trying to get into a comfortable position where the tickle wouldn't bother me. I kept squirming and whining until finally she took me into my room and changed my diaper. After she had changed me she put on the balm and the tickle got chased away. Thank goodness! Unfortunately, by that time, I was up and I couldn't get back to sleep. Mom tried really hard to help me get back to sleep. She rocked me and walked with me and sang to me. I almost fell asleep in her arms, but I woke up when she put me back in the crib. Finally she took me into her bed with Dad and together we all fell back to sleep.

Last night the same thing happened to me - I woke up and the tickle was burning away under my diaper. I cried out for Mom, knowing that if she would just change my diaper everything would be fine. Mom didn't come. I cried some more. She still didn't come. I yelled for Mom or Dad to come get me and change my diaper but no one came to my room. I stood up and held onto my crib and screamed as loud as I could but neither Mom nor Dad would arrive at my door. It hurt so much and I just wanted my diaper changed. I couldn't fall back asleep so I just sat down and cried and whimpered to myself because it hurt and no one loved me enough to come and get me. At long last Mom came in. She did love me enough to get that tickle! She changed my diaper and put the balm on, which again chased the tickle away. Then she gave me a little bottle and turned on my CD. Basically, she and I re-enacted the routine that I always go through at night when I go to bed. I knew that I would get a bottle and rock for a couple of songs and then get put in my crib... and that was OK. When Mom put me in the crib I sat up and said goodnight and didn't cry at all because I knew that it was still time for sleeping.

Today the burning tickle is still here. Most of the time it's controllable, but at least now I know that if I cry and cry and continue to cry Mom will come and help me out. She's a good one, that Mom. That's probably why I love her so much.

2003-04-10T00:16:00.000-04:00

It's funny how the days seem to blur into one another. Back when I was first born and everything was new in the world I had so much to wonder at. The freshness of everything was almost overwhelming. Now, though, one day is a lot like another. Oh, sure, there's something different to do each day and there is something that makes it unique. But there is also a sameness to it all that I find both comforting and saddening. I like my routine a lot. Yet I yearn for new things and change too. Why is that?

"Morgan," Dad said to me as I told him to write this, "you've written about a lot of changes recently. How can you say that things are the same?"

Well, like I said, there is a routine to the day. Each day I get up in the morning right around the time that the sun comes out. Sometimes I can't see the sun because it's all cloudy or the shade is closed tight, so I get up when I think the sun is up. I play by myself for a little bit, but then I call out to Mom and Dad and they get me. I get my diaper changed and then I get breakfast of a bowl of cereal and a jar of fruit. Then I get to play with my toys until it's time to go with Mom (or sometimes Dad) to day care. Unless it's a weekend, in which case I can continue to play for a while.

Each (week)day during the drive to Patty's house or Kim's house I get sleepy in the car and usually take a quick nap. When I'm home on the weekend I usually take a nap at the same time as I would if I were in the car. When I get to day care I play some more and then get a bottle. Except for those days when Patty takes all of us out to book-babies at the library. After the bottle I play with either the bigger kids or with Kim or with Mom and Dad (depending on where I am) and then go down for a real nap. When I get up I have lunch. Almost without fail my lunch is something orange. I get a sippy cup to play with and drink some water out of. Then it's lunch time. Lunch with Kim & Christine means going to the dining hall with them and being social with a lot of their friends, who have become my friends too. Lunch at Patty's involves sitting with the other kids as they eat and asking (politely, if sometimes loudly) for some food too. Lunch at home involves sitting with Mom and Dad in the TV room. Lunch is always social.

The afternoon is play time, with an occasional nap thrown in if I'm in the mood. One time recently I wasn't in the mood for a nap even though Patty had put all of us into our cribs to sleep. So I stayed up and had a fascinating conversation with Ryan about crawling and walking and stuff. We got so loud that we woke up Rachel and Patty came in and yelled at me and Ryan to be quiet. I smiled at Patty and she stopped yelling and picked me up. Then she picked Ryan up too and it wasn't nap time anymore. Eventually (except on weekends) Mom or Dad comes to take me home and it's into the car for another ride and another quick nap. When we get home I eat my dinner (which is almost always a jar of beans followed by some yogurt) and then I sit with Mom and Dad as they have their dinner. We talk about what happened that day and I bang my cup on the tray of my seat or sing to them to show them I'm a part of the conversation. Sometimes, recently, they give me food from their plates to supplement my dinner. After dinner is play time followed sometimes by bath time and then book time and bed time. And that's the day.

The routine isn't exact every day. But it's so omnipresent that I can easily forget from one day to the next what I've done that is special in the day. Today I played with the dog, Micah - or was that last week? Yesterday I went to book babies - or was it the day before? Duncan tripped over me today - or was that something that happened a couple of days ago or a couple of weeks ago? Maybe it was all of the above. The routine overwhelms the surprising. And even the surprising isn't all that new. Where is the new?

Dad does have a good point, though. Even if the new feels like it's so quickly old there still are things that are noteworthy and eventful and, yes, even fresh. New tastes seem to pop into my mouth on a daily basis. I don't see my family other than Mom and Dad too much, so it's always a treat to see the cousins or Nana and Papa or Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger or any of the Aunties and Uncles. The cold snapped for a little bit and we had some summer-like weather. I can stand up on my own in so many new places.

Yet all these fresh things seem so common once I've done them a few times... they become part of the routine. The fresh tastes are almost expected. I know I'll see some family every few weeks or so. The cold came back. I've been practicing standing so much that now it's almost second nature. (If only first nature wasn't falling back down when I let go of what's holding me up!) The new becomes old. The fresh becomes stale. The exciting becomes standard. How does that happen? And will it ever stop? Is this what I should expect will continue to happen over the next year? Or two? Or more?

All this comes from the fact that when I sat down to write this diary entry with Dad I didn't know what I was going to write about. It came from Dad asking, "what's new in your life now, Morgan?" I've always been able to answer him with some new tale until today. Today I didn't know how to answer. It wasn't a good feeling. So tomorrow I'm going to see what's new in my life. I'm going to make an effort to find the new. Can I make my drum make a new noise? Can I press some new button to see what it does? Can I crawl into a place I've never been before? Can I stand up without holding on to something? Can I surprise Patty or Mom or Dad in some new way and make them laugh? Where is the new hiding? And can I find it?

I'll bet I can. And tomorrow (or maybe the next day) I'll write all about it.

2003-04-07T09:18:00.000-04:00

Mom and Dad have been holding out on me.

Before this weekend I had known that Mom and Dad eat different food than I do. I had seen that they clearly don't eat their food out of bottles or jars. Well, sometimes Dad drinks something out of a brown bottle but that's a pretty rare thing. Anyway, at dinner time I would get my beans and O's and they would get whatever sort of thing they were making.

Back a few weeks ago when I went out with Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert I got a special treat and ate some Chinese food off of Mom and Dad's plate. It was different - a little spicy (especially when compared to formula) and tough to figure out how to swallow. I enjoyed it as a special treat, but I don't think I would like it every day. Last week, when Mom and Dad and I went to another restaurant, I ate off of Dad's plate again. This time it was eggs and bread and some other things I don't remember. The eggs were really yummy - I could have them every day - and everything else was OK except for the melon, which didn't taste like much of anything and didn't squish properly when I tried to chew it. At the time I realized that it was a lot of fun going out to eat with Mom and Dad because they would give me stuff that I couldn't get out of a jar.

Then, this weekend, I realized that Mom and Dad were keeping things from me. I didn't have to wait to go out to eat with them to get new and exciting foods from off of their plates. No, indeed. I could have gotten food off their plate at home at any time!! They could've started to give me new tastes and textures as soon as I started eating with a spoon if they had wanted to! I would've eaten it - I know I would've! But, no. They held out and only now, after four long months of depravation and jarred vegetables am I able to start tasting the real stuff. The stuff that has varied tastes and different shapes. The stuff they like.

This weekend I started out with some rice. Rice is really small pieces of food that are usually stuck together with a little sauce. Sometimes the sauce has a sweet taste and other times the sauce is kind of spicy but there's always the sauce there around the rice to make the little pieces stick together. The rice pieces are so small that I can't even pick them up with my fingers. I've tried, but I don't think it can be done. Rice doesn't come on a spoon, either. It comes on a fork. That's the utensil that Mom and Dad almost always use to eat their food. When I got my first taste of rice at home this weekend I realized that this new stuff tasted really good and I literally screamed for more. I couldn't wait for the next bite of this great new stuff. Dad kept shoveling forkful after forkful into my mouth and I kept bobbing up and down in my seat and yelling and clapping because it was so good.

Saturday Dad and Mom had something new that smelled really good. They called it macaroni and cheese. This macaroni stuff is like little tubes with a yummy, if a little salty, sauce wrapped all around them. At first Mom and Dad weren't going to give me any of their macaroni, but I convinced them (loudly, they say) to let me have some. It was fantastic! I didn't even have to chew these little tubes - they just went right down my throat with little or no resistance. And the taste was like nothing I've ever tried before. All I can say is "Wow". That night we went out with Nana and Papa and all of the cousins that are usually with Nana and Papa so that we could celebrate Nana's birthday. I partied all night because there was a different kind of macaroni with a different kind of sauce that I sucked down like there was no tomorrow. I couldn't believe how my taste buds were reacting to this new stuff. After more than a few spoonfuls of macaroni I got a little tired of it and asked for my beans - because I really love my beans. The taste of the beans complimented the taste of the macaroni in a way that I never would've expected. It was like my mouth was cooling down after a really hot day. I wish I could explain it better, but I can't.

Sunday was more rice and sauce. I could tell that Dad didn't want to give me any of his rice, but I screamed so loud at him that he had to come over and give me some. It's neat that I found out a new way to make him do things I want him to do. The rice was just as good as last time (if not better) and I'm getting the hang of keeping more rice in my mouth at once. I've also gotten the hang of opening my mouth really wide for the fork so that it doesn't poke me as the rice goes in my mouth. It did poke me once - not enough to make me cry, but enough to make me learn that I should open really wide if I want this rice. Which I do. All the time.

2003-04-05T10:39:00.000-05:00

Button, button, who's got the button?

I do! I love playing with buttons. There are buttons on almost all of my favorite toys and they all do funny and different things. For instance, one of my toys (well, Dad's toy really) is called "the remote control". Dad is always playing with that toy when he's watching me as I play in the family room. We have a fun game, he and I, where I crawl after the remote if it is on the floor and he tries to hide it from me or put it where I can't reach it. Sometimes he wins the game and sometimes I win the game. When he wins I cry and sometimes he relents and lets me win anyway. However I win I always do the same thing with my prize: press the buttons on the remote and put the end of it into my mouth. The remote doesn't taste like anything special, but when I push the buttons funny things happen to the TV. Sometimes it gets louder and sometimes the picture changes to something else and then flips back to the original show we were watching. It's all good fun and I have a good time with the remote - until Dad pulls it away from me and I cry again.

Now that I can get around places I've been finding more buttons on new and different things. There is a machine in Dad's office that has buttons on them that go "click" when I pound on them but don't really do anything else. They're still fun to pound on. My telephone that says "Let's call kitty" has buttons on it, and when I pound on them the phone counts or says "Square" or "Triangle". That's sort of fun. The real telephone that Mom and Dad use has buttons on it, but they don't do anything when you press them so it's much more fun to stick the antenna into my mouth and chew on it. Buttons are everywhere!

Buttons aren't only at home, though. Patty's house has a lot of buttons that I never even noticed before. I've been finding them all over when I'm there. For instance, yesterday I was crawling around in the living room where all the couches are and I looked up at the TV that Duncan was watching. It was some silly show like the ones that Dad watches, so I didn't really pay attention to what was on the screen. But I noticed for the first time that there are buttons below the screen on the television. I crawled over to the TV and reached up to the lip of the TV stand. I could grasp it with no problem, so I pulled myself up to a standing position and examined the buttons. Duncan warned me not to do anything to the TV and I told him I wasn't doing anything to the TV, I was just looking at the buttons. I reached out my hand and pressed one. The picture on the TV flipped and Duncan yelled at me to stop. He pressed a button on his remote and the picture went back. That was fun! I pressed another button and the TV grew really LOUD. Duncan yelled at me again to stop and the TV got quieter. Then I pressed another button and the TV's sound went off entirely. What fun buttons these were!

Duncan yelled really loud at me and Patty came and moved me back into the middle of the room. Then I noticed the thing next to the TV had buttons too. I crawled back over to the TV area and told Duncan that I wasn't going to do anything with the buttons on the TV. I hit the buttons on the other thing and suddenly a big loud noise came from the thing. Wow! That was loud! I pressed some more buttons and the sound went off and on. Fun! Duncan yelled and yelled for me to be quiet. I laughed at the buttons and at Duncan. Patty came over and laughed a little under her breath so Duncan couldn't hear as she took me into the kitchen to give me a sippy cup. "Quit pressing Duncan's buttons, Morgan" she said as she gave me my water.

Duncan had buttons too? Neat! I'm going to have to crawl all over him next week to see if I can find them. I wonder what sort of noise Duncan makes when you press his buttons?

2003-04-02T09:02:00.000-05:00

Uh-Oh!

When something bad happens, but not too bad, Mom says "Uh-Oh". She's done this for just about as long as I can remember. Something falls on the ground? Uh-Oh. I bump my head a little bit but not really enough to hurt that much? Uh-Oh. Something smelly in the diaper? Uh-Oh.

I decided this week that I would get in on the action too. I like how the word feels in my mouth - Uh Oh. It's easy to say and can really be used almost anywhere. So I do. The first few times I tried out "Uh-Oh" was when I was sitting in my high-chair at home. I was playing with a toy on the tray and after whapping it against the tray too hard one time it fell to the ground. "Uh-Oh", I said. Mom looked over and asked if I had dropped the toy. "Uh-Oh", I replied. She smiled and laughed and said I was a good little peanut. She then picked up the toy and gave it back to me. I had done good!

Emboldened that my use and phrasing of "Uh-Oh" was on the money I started using it more and more. In the car as I was driving home with Mom, at Patty's house, crawling along the floor at home. Everywhere I could think of - I would say "Uh-Oh". Sure, sometimes the cause was a little bit of a stretch. A few times I was thinking about how something had fallen on the floor or I fell from a standing position to a sitting position and I said "Uh-Oh". But most other times I have been saying it at the right time. At the restaraunt when a toy fell on the floor. At home when the ball Dad and I are playing with rolls past me. In the car when I drop my pacifier and can't find it. Uh-Oh.

Uh-Oh has become my favorite thing to say, supplanting my old favorite - "Hi". I still say Hi every now and then when I see someone that I want to talk to. But the term is old news now. All of the smiles and laughs that I used to get from my parents and Patty when I said "Hi" are now there for "Uh-Oh." There's also the fact that I got a little bored with greeting everyone and everything that I saw. I over-used it. Now I just say "Hi" when I need to. But I always need to say "Uh-Oh". It's eminently useful everywhere I go. I don't think that the word could ever be overused.

Uh-Oh.

2003-03-30T11:14:00.000-05:00

I've mastered so many things so far: rolling over, sitting up, crawling. Now for the next step on the road to my first step: standing!

I've been trying to practice standing for a long time now - almost since I was born. My first try at standing wasn't even something that I could control myself. Dad would sit me on his belly and grab my hands and say "Up" and pull a little bit. I learned after a while that he wanted me to try to push with my legs as he was pulling on my arms so that I could stand on my own two feet. After a couple of weeks of practicing with him I could mostly do it. But then I got bored with "Up" and started thinking about other things that I could do on my own without anyone else's help - like rolling.

Now, though, I've been thinking about "Up" again and I'm ready to try it on my own. In order to stand up I need to have a brace to pull on. It helps when I can find something that is reasonably solid and stable, but when I can't then a bigger person lounging the floor will do. I prefer to search for the solid brace, though, because whichever person I find usually tries to help me stand and that is very much not the point. At home I've been crawling all around the main floor (not the floor with the bedrooms in it) and I've found all sorts of things that are solid enough to serve as a brace. There are sofas and tables and chairs and even some larger toys. The problem with all of these though, is that the solid brace needs to have something that I can easily grab onto right about at the level of my head when I'm sitting. I need that handle so I can pull myself up properly and then push on it to keep me stable and standing. The sofa is too high for this and the tables, while about the right height, all have an overhanging lip on them that causes me to bang my head when I try to pull up. It hurts a lot.

In my search for the perfect brace I've found a couple of things at home that will do. My toy box is about the right height and is solid enough that it won't move when I try to pull on it. The problem with it, though, is that the sides are soft so the handle that I use to pull up sort of collapses when I push against it to keep my balance once I'm in a standing position. It works, but only to a point. This morning, though, I was crawling into the living room and there I saw it: the perfect solid brace. It was a play table that I've toyed with before but was always too high for me to play with properly. When I saw it I realized that it's not too high - if you stand to play with it!

I scooted over to the play table and tested it for solidity. It wobbled a little bit and felt like it would fall if I pulled or pushed too hard. Mom saw what I was trying to do and moved the table into another room and put it up next to a wall. I reached up and tested again. When I pushed on it the table held and when I pulled the legs didn't move as much because they were braced against the wall. Perfect! I reached up and grabbed the top of the table and found a good hand hold for me to pull. Then I got up onto my knees (which is really a lot easier than one might think) and stuck one leg out with my knee bent so that my foot was flat against the floor. A little bit of pushing with the leg and a little bit of pulling on the table and voila - I was standing next to the table!

I was so proud of myself that I wanted to clap and say "Yay" - but I knew that if I clapped I would need to let go of the table and that might cause me to fall. So I just smiled up at Mom and laughed to her. I was so happy that I stood all by myself and it was so easy to do. This table is now my new favorite toy. I'll need to ask Patty if she has one because I'm going to need to practice a lot during the day if I ever want to learn how to take the next step... my first step.

2003-03-27T08:27:00.000-05:00

I get to change outfits almost every day now, but Mom and Patty and Kim and Christine aren't too happy about that.

I'm a big girl. I big, growing girl. And everything about a big, growing girl will get bigger and grow more powerful too. The reason that I can change my outfits so often is that my poop seems to be quite powerful now. What happens is that I'm in the middle of eating or I'm sitting on the floor and I feel it coming on me - the big, nasty poop. I hunch a little. I try my darndest to get it all out at once, because I know that once the poop comes out I'll be a lot more comfortable. Sometimes it's so big and powerful that I have to grunt a little. Then ** the poop is gone and I can go on with my life - crawling around and finding things or sitting and bouncing to the music in my head.

The problem is that the poop's not really gone. It's just moved from the Inside to the Outside. No, it's not out in the ever warmer breezes... it's outside of me but I still carry it with me. That's what diapers are for. A little while after the big poop, whoever's with me notices a strange smell (that seems to go along with the poop) and brings me up to change my diaper. That's when we both notice... the poop was explosive. It didn't just stay in the diaper, it went up my back too. I don't really notice it much when it happens, but when the diaper comes off I can sometimes feel the layers of clothes peel away from my skin, they are covered in so much poop. Whomever is changing the diaper usually goes "Eww" or "Oh, Morgan". Then I get to change my outfit!

Some days the poop isn't bad at all and stays in my diaper. On those days I don't get to be a fashion diva. But on some days, like two days ago at Patty's, I got to wear three different outfits before bath time! It was really fun! I really don't much mind the poop at all - it all gets cleaned off eventually. But I really like wearing different outfits during the day. Sometimes one is better for crawling, while another has a more comfy fit. A third might have footies for when it's cold, while another might require shoes so I can practice my standing easier. I love it!

Mom or Patty or anyone else changing me doesn't seem to love it much, but I don't really care. If they worry about me going through too many outfits because of the poop, I have one recommendation - buy more outfits. A girl can never have too many.

2003-03-24T11:32:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it's nice just to play by myself.

I've often talked about playing with other people and the fun that can be had with them. Patty teaches me all sorts of stuff when she plays with me. Like how to sing and what to do when we say "Amen" after praying. Mom and Dad are often fun to play with because they almost always do what I want to do. If I don't feel like playing with a ball but want to crawl over to another room and try to climb a stair they are fine with that. They follow me to the stair and make sure I don't fall over. If I tire of the stair and want to read some of Mom's cookbooks? They follow along and help me play with the books. Even Duncan can be fun to play with sometimes when he isn't ignoring me altogether. Sometimes he tries to teach me about his toys, which is always enlightening, but he gets really angry with me when I try to taste them. I don't know why... you never really can know about a toy until you've tasted it.

But sometimes it's nice to play on my own. At Patty's I've got my own area that Duncan and Ryan and Rachel can't go into. It's got plastic mesh walls around it so no one else can get in. The flip side of that is that I can't get out, but that's OK because when I want to play on my own I don't want to be anywhere else anyway. When I play by myself I can take whatever toy I want and put it in my mouth and no one bothers me about it. I can look up at the ceiling and not have to worry about another kid running into me at all. I can whack my toys together or sing or do whatever I want. It's my time and I enjoy it. When I want to get out and play with the others (usually after they have run by with something really interesting) I call out to Patty and she comes over, picks me up, and puts me on the floor where I can crawl over and find out what's going on. Most of the time. Sometimes she doesn't come and I need to cry a little louder, and then a little louder, and then a lot louder to make her pick me up. But that's not very often.

My really special "me" time, though, is in the morning. I've noticed that the light in the morning is coming into my room a little earlier every morning now, making me wake up before Mom and Dad are up. Sometimes I even get up before the light starts coming into my room. When I get up in the morning I don't need to be picked up by Mom or Dad right away unless I'm hungry or I've had a bad dream that woke me up. No, I'd rather play on my own for a while before I start my day. My crib used to have a mobile that I could reach up and bat when I lied on my back in the early light. It had four toys on it shaped like Tigger and his friends and they would sometimes go around in a circle if I hit them just right. Around the time that I learned how to sit up by myself Mom and Dad took the mobile away but thankfully they left all the toys behind. When I get up in the morning the first thing I do after I make sure my pacifier is in my mouth is find those toys. Sometimes they are under the big fluffy blanket in my crib. Sometimes they are in the corner of the crib by the bunting. But I usually find them and shake them and play with them on my own. Some people might say that taking a toy and shaking it a little isn't much fun, but it is. At least, it is for me when I'm in "me" time.

Sometimes in the morning, after I've played with my toys, I just sit and think for a while. I think about Mom. I think about how to say the word "Bottle" by saying the whole word and not saying "Ba ba ba". I think about how many words start with "Ta-" and practice them. Or, at least, I practice the "Ta-" part. I think about the baby in the mirror and then I look at the little warped mirror in my crib and say "Hi" to the baby. Sometimes I just let my mind wander and bounce to the music that I hear in my head. It's "me" time. I can do whatever I want.

Eventually Mom or Dad come in to see me and "wake me up" only to find that I'm already awake and ready for the day. Sometimes when I'm done with "me" time and I want to eat I'll call out to Mom and Dad or I'll cry a little and that will usually get them to come see me. Whenever they come in I know that my quiet morning "me" time is over and it's time to start out the day. They ask me for my pacifiers and I hand them first the one in the crib that is usually lying around and then the one in my mouth and they take them and say "Thank you" to me in return. It's not quite sharing, but it is polite. Then I get changed and have some breakfast and start playing with others for the day. I enjoy playing with other people. Like I said, it's really fun. But I'm so glad I have a little time just to play with "me" too.

2003-03-22T16:30:00.000-05:00

It's warm again! I can go back Outside!

Today Mom put my jacket on me and put me into this fun stroller that I've never been in before. It has three wheels instead of four and straps for me so that I don't fall out. At first I was confused about the straps and then we started our walk and boy, was I glad I had them! The stroller goes so fast compared to my other strollers that I needed the straps just to stay in the right position. Even so, I still sometimes needed to grab the side of the stroller to steady myself. It was a wild ride!

Today wasn't the first day that it was warm enough to go outside in just my jacket. The first couple of times that we went out (like when we went to the parade) I thought that maybe it was a fluke. That happened at the beginning of this long, horrible season called winter. It got really cold for a few days and then warmed up again so I thought the winter was over and that summer had returned. I was very disappointed that this was not what had happened. So when the warming trend started a week or so ago I waited for the inevitable chill to come. And it did, a little. But then it got warmer again. And it's staying warmer, generally. The white cover on the ground has all gone away and Mom is occasionally opening the windows in the house. It all is adding up. Summer is coming back!

It's still not really warm out yet. I still need to wear a jacket outside. But at least the hated fleece has been banished to the back of the closet. And Mom told me that she is putting all of the snowsuits into a box that is going into the attic. Hooray! My jacket is so much nicer than my fleece. In order to get into it I only have to put my arms into the sleeves - rather than putting both arms and legs into the fleece. Even so, I can't wait for the day that I can go outside in the same clothes that I wear when I'm inside. That will be the day I really know summer has returned for good.

When I was out on my walk with Mom we saw all kinds of neat sights. We went into the bookstore, where the books were stacked from the floor all the way to the ceiling. We went into the library, which had almost as many books as the bookstore but had them displayed in a lot more space. In the library, we went into the children's section and found a host of books just my size on shelves that I could mostly reach. I'll bet that if I could stand up I would be able to reach all of the books in the kid's area. The kid's area also had a big play area with toys all over and books on the floor - so you didn't even need to crawl over to a shelf to pull a book down if you wanted to read something... it was all right there! Mom promised that later on in the year (when I was walking or when she has more time - whichever comes first) she'll bring me down to the library so I can play with the books in the kids area. I'm going to hold her to that, too!

We stopped at a few people's houses on the way to the library and on the way back. Mom talked with some of the other moms in the neighborhood and I got to get reacquainted with some of the other kids in the area. Boy, have they all grown a lot! Way back at the last Play Group I went to I was chatting with Cole, one of the kids in the neighborhood, about the crazy loonies running around like idiots all about us. At the time he had agreed that anything more than crawling or a sedate toddle wasn't needed. At the time I couldn't even sit up, so it made sense to me. Now, when we visited today, he barely remembered me and obviously didn't remember our conversation since he was running around the yard - falling, laughing, and getting awfully dirty in the process. In other words, he was crazy too. I know I've said before that I'd like to be able to walk around and get things (and, maybe, run a little too) but I really hope that I don't end up looking and acting crazy like that.

We also said "Hi" to Andrew and Daniel next door. Well, I said "Hi" really loudly and Mom laughed and said "Hello". I waved at them too, because that's what you do when you greet someone. Daniel showed us how he could stand on one leg and hop and a whole other pile of tricks. He wasn't running around like a crazy person. Maybe his parents are raising him right. Andrew is about 7 weeks older than I am and he said that he can stand up and walk around the coffee table in his Mom and Dad's house. He also told me that he's trying to hop like Daniel, but that he can't quite figure out how yet. I asked him to let me know when he figures it out, because hopping looks like a really neat thing to do.

We finally got home and Dad came out of the house to sit with Mom and me on the front porch. It was just like it was summer again. So nice. I said "Hi" to some people on the street as they passed and needed to yell it really loud to make sure they heard me. They did and said "Hi" back. It's so nice to be friendly to the neighbors. And it's even nicer when you can see them all around you in the warm summer breeze. I can't wait!

2003-03-20T08:59:00.000-05:00

I like sharing. Mom says sharing is caring. But I'm not so sure about what my family and I have been sharing recently.

I started learning about sharing a few weeks ago. Sharing is when you give something to someone and they then give it back to you. It's a really fun game. Adults play the game best, though. Kids really kind of stink at it. For example, a couple of days ago I was playing with a ball and Dad held out his hand and said, "Can I have it?" I held it out for him to take and he said "thank you". He played with it for a few seconds and then handed it back to me, saying "here you go". That's proper sharing. When I play the same game with Ryan or Rachel or Duncan or someone like that the game goes very differently. For instance, last week I held my car out to Ryan for him to share with me. He took the car and then ran away, leaving me sitting there with nothing. There was no sharing back. Just me looking after him with no toy anywhere nearby. Stupid kids with their stupid non-sharing!

All this weekend I shared with my family. I would hand something to Grandpa Bert and he would give it back to me. Mom would take an O from my hand and then put it in my mouth. It was fun. Somewhere along the way, though, we managed to share a tickle. My tickle started in my throat this time. I tried coughing quite a bit to get it dislodged, but the tickle wouldn't go away. A day later Mom started coughing. Then Dad. I had shared my tickle! A few days ago I felt the tickle split in two. Normally when I get a tickle it goes from one place to another. This time I had the tickle still in my throat but the other half of the tickle went into my tummy. Then it split again and went into my head and made me feel all warm. I just wanted to lie down and moan, I felt so bad. Yet when I did that I felt bad, so I started to crawl and whined. It isn't much fun. I can't figure out what the best position is to make the tickle go away.

Apparently, the shared tickle is doing the same thing to all of my family. Last night Dad was asleep in bed when we got home. I guess the tickle in his head was getting him down. Mom told me that yesterday Grandma Tigger had to stay home because our shared tickle had her feeling so bad. Even Mom herself told me that she wishes she could get rid of the tickle because it's doing funny things to her tummy and head. I feel really bad for everyone - I know how bad it is to have this tickle - but I hope that they all deal with it on their own instead of sharing it. Because when you share you give the shared thing back to the person who had it first - and I sure don't want this tickle back once I've got it out of my system!

2003-03-17T09:03:00.000-05:00

When Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger and I go out it's always an adventure. And yesterday was the best adventure we've had yet!

Mom and Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger took me to a fun thing called a parade. A parade is a place where you stand around for a long time waiting for some cars and people to come down the street. Then you go "Yay" and "Hooray" at them until they're gone. Then you wait for the next group of people to come down the street and do the same thing to them. I know, it doesn't sound like much fun when I describe it, but it's an awesome blast!

We started our adventure on this big, noisy, long thing that trundled along on tracks. Mom called it a train. We got on the train underneath a big building where we parked our car. We were so far under the building that I could barely see the light poking through at the end of the platform where we waited for the train. But then we got on the train and we started moving. It felt a little like when I was on the plane going to Baltimore, but this time I could see out the big windows that were on either side of the train. The trees and buildings whizzed by so fast that I couldn't keep my eyes on them properly. I needed to look further into the distance just to see what I was missing. After a little bit of looking out the window I then refocused on Mom and Grandma Tigger and saw what I was really missing.

People! So many people around me! It was great to smile at the old ladies and the kids and the hunky men - especially the men. I always smile a little bit brighter for the men. When the people said "Hi" to me I said "Hi" back. Grandma Tigger has been showing me that my waving means something because when I wave to her she waves back. So I've been trying to copy her wave as I see it - with my palm towards me I open and close my hand. Yup. It looks just like Grandma's wave! I waved to the people and they laughed and said I was cute. Which is exactly what Grandpa Bert and Mom have been saying all along, so I guess I believe it.

We got off the train and merged with an even bigger throng of people on the sidewalk outside the station. Grandma Tigger and Mom set up the chairs that they were carrying with them while Grandpa Bert held me in his arms. We all waited anxiously. Nothing came down the street. We waited some more. Mom took me and held me on her lap. Still nothing came down the street. Finally there was a big noise and down the street came so many big red trucks that I couldn't even keep count. I sat on Mom's lap and leaned forward as far as I could to make sure that I didn't miss a thing. The trucks were blaring sirens and flashing lights and the men on the trucks were waving to everyone in the crowd. I waved back. I think they saw me, because it seemed like they smiled bigger as they passed us by. Wow! What a time.

I thought that was the end of the parade, but Mom said that there was more. We waited for a while. Then some more. Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger and Mom took turns holding me while we waited. Nothing more came. I thought Mom was having some fun with me, but everyone else that was there was waiting and looking down the street too. It turns out that waiting is a large part of parades. I got tired at one point so I fell asleep on Grandpa Bert's arm for a while. I woke up when I heard some more people coming down the street. So it was back onto a lap as we sat and clapped for the people in the parade. This time there were no trucks, but there were men dressed up in skirts who were blowing into this big sack that each one was carrying. The sacks made this wonderful noise that sounded like a cross between the sirens and the classical music that Mom and Dad play for me at nap time. I clapped for them as hard as I could. Then there were big kids in uniforms who trasped down the street, waving. They didn't do much but wave so I just waved back at them. More people filed by and I sat forward looking up and down the street, determined not to miss a thing.

I was having a great time until the people with the boom-sticks came. I thought at first that they were normal people who were waving to the crowd, but then they all took the big sticks they were carrying, pointed them into the air, and fired. One of the loudest cracks I've ever heard happened and it scared me almost out of my skin. I broke down at that point, I'm sorry to say, since the sticks were so scary and the noise was so loud and my half-hour nap on Grandpa Bert's arm didn't make me any less tired. Mom held me for a while until I calmed down again and then I watched the end of the parade with everyone. Except for the boom-sticks the parade was a great time - even if it had a lot of waiting in it. I hope I can go again next time Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger are in town.

After we were done with the parade we all went back home, picked up Dad, and went to a new restaurant together. It was a Chinese food restaurant, and it was so yummy! I got to try all sorts of new things, including the crispy part of something called crab rangoon, some pineapple, two different kinds of ice cream, and jello. I didn't know that there were so many new tastes to be had! Mom and Dad and Patty have been giving me some new tastes from my jars recently, but none of these new tastes came from a jar at all and they were all so good! And the way some of them slipped down my throat (like the jello) was weird but fun. Maybe I need to start going beyond the jar and expanding on my foods. I need to work Mom and Dad over on that one. This Chinese food was so good!

After we ate we went back home and I took a bath, my adventure for the day done. I'm sure there are a lot of things I'm forgetting in my day, it was so jammed packed with excitement. But I'll never forget my first parade and all the fun that went along with it. I can't wait for the next one to arrive!

2003-03-15T15:03:00.000-05:00

Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert and Nana and Papa are all here!

Well, that's not true anymore. They were all here. Now they're not. But more about this in a little bit...

Mom and I left yesterday morning after the big stompy men came back to the house to do some more work. After a nice ride in the car listening to what Mom calls "classic rock" I got to Patty's and played with Ryan and Rachel and Duncan. I don't think I've mentioned Duncan in my diary before. He's the new kid at Patty's house and he's only there about half of the time. The thing with him is, though, that he's way older than any of us other kids. He's five years old. He not only runs around the house like Ryan and Rachel but he also knows how to talk just as good as any adult. So when he trips over me as I crawl around on Patty's floor he doesn't sit there and cry like Ryan sometimes does, but he gets up and yells at me for getting in his way. Until Patty tells him that I wasn't in his way and he got in my way as I was trying to get one of my toys. I like Patty a lot. She's always sticking up for me.

Mom came to see me in the afternoon and we got in the car to go home early. But instead of going home we went down towards Nana's house. But instead of going to Nana's house we went to the airport and found Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert. I have to stop thinking that I know where we're going in the car, because I was wrong about our destination not just once, but twice. And if someone had asked me where we were going I never would've guessed that Grandma and Grandpa would be at the end of our trip. Grandma and Grandpa hugged Mom and then hugged me really hard. They both said they were glad to see us, and I have to say I was really glad to see them. Mom seemed happy that they were there too - she was smiling a lot and laughed all the way back to our house.

I thought that it was great that Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger were back. I hadn't seen them in a long time and I had a lot of things to show them that I could do. I showed them how I could crawl around on the floor to get what I wanted. I showed them how I can pull myself up to my knees and bounce. I showed them my four new teeth that are on the top of my mouth. I showed them how loud I could be now. Really everything that I could think of I showed them. It was great. Everything that I did caused them to go "Hooray" or "Great" or clap their hands. I was a hit!

An hour or so after Grandma and Grandpa came, I got tired and needed to take a nap. I knew I was tired, and that I needed the nap, but I didn't want to take a nap because Grandpa and Grandma were here. So when Mom put me into my crib I refused to lie down and go to sleep. Mom and Grandma tried to get me to sleep but I didn't want to. They left me in my room with the music on, which usually means that they are assuming that I'm asleep even though I am not. So I played with my toys and made some noise to tell my Mom that I wasn't asleep and then played with my toys some more. There's only so much that a person can do in a crib. Eventually I lied down to rest my eyes. It was around then that I saw Grandma come into my room and put a blanket on me. I stayed very still so Grandma would think I was asleep. Then, as she started to leave the room I popped up my head and said, "Grandma, don't leave!". She left anyway. I started crying out for her to come back. "Grandma, please come back and play with me!" That didn't work. "Grandma, I never get to play with you," I yelled at the closed door. She didn't come back. "GRAAAANNDMAAAAA!!!" I yelled. But still Grandma Tigger wouldn't come back through the door. I sobbed for a while because I really wanted to play with Grandma and eventually I fell asleep. But I missed my Grandma.

When I woke up and Mom brought me downstairs I was pretty excited. I would get to play with Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert. But I got a big surprise when Nana and Papa were there too! Everyone was there just to see me! I loved the attention. I said "Hi" to everyone and got to sit with them at the table as they were finishing their meals. After dinner I got to play with everyone. I rolled balls to Nana and played on the floor with Papa. I had fun making strange noises with Grandpa Bert and got tons of hugs from Grandma Tigger. It was great. Too quickly, though, I started getting tired again. I fought it hard, but the yawns kept on coming and it got to the point that I couldn't keep my eyes open much longer. Mom and Grandma Tigger put me to bed after I had said goodnight to everyone. Wow, what a big day I had!

This morning I was hoping to play with everyone again. But I found that Nana and Papa had gone home. I was disappointed for a minute or two, but then I realized that Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger were still there and I could have tons of fun with them! So that's just what I've been doing all day today. I've played with balls and the toy with Winnie the Pooh that pops up and the new big mirror that arrived in our family room yesterday. That mirror has the baby in the mirror just like all the other ones, but I can touch this baby in the mirror. I can crawl right up and get on my knees and touch the baby. She tries to touch me at the same time, so it's great fun. I know deep down that the baby is me, but I prefer to think of the baby in the mirror as another baby so that together we can have more fun. It's better playing with mirrors with a friend like her than it is playing all by yourself. But even the baby in the mirror can't compare to playing with people like Dad or Grandpa Bert or Grandma Tigger or Mom. They're much more fun. And when you roll a ball to the baby in the mirror the ball just stays near the mirror. When you roll a ball to someone like Grandpa Bert the ball comes back!

2003-03-12T22:14:00.000-05:00

Dad had me all out of sorts today. Every time I thought I could be on a schedule he tricked me.

First off, why was Dad even hanging out with me today anyway? Today is a Wednesday, which means that I should be hanging out with Kim and Christine. Admittedly, last week Kim came to see me, but still. Wednesday is Kim and Christine day, not Dad day. Dad day is Saturday and Sunday with Mom. So just being with Dad in the morning and having him play with me on the floor instead of going in to work with Mom had me all out of sorts.

I got over the weirdness of being with Dad pretty quickly, though. Normally, when I drive in the car with Mom, I have a little time to take a small nap in the morning. I find that this nap gets me through the rest of the morning until lunchtime pretty nicely. On those days where I sing in the car with Mom on the way to work I take a nap soon after I arrive at Patty's or Kim's house. It's my routine. Since I was with Dad in the early morning today my routine was shattered. Oh, he tried to let me have some of my routine by putting me in my crib for a nap around 9... but I wasn't tired enough for a full crib nap. Maybe a car nap, but definitely not a crib nap. So I cried some and whined at him to let me out of the crib until finally he came and picked me up. About 30 minutes later I was ready for a crib nap and started rubbing my eyes and yawning, but Dad wasn't listening. I started crying that I just wanted a nap, but Dad didn't pay any attention to me. Instead he put on my jacket and brought me to the car. Weird. It's as if he wanted to mess with my schedule.

We weren't in the car long enough for me to take a nap. After just a few minutes of driving we were at the building I recognized as the doctor's office. I went in with Dad a little fearfully. After all, this is where Dr. Meany punched me with his pain sticks. But then I remembered that the last two times that I had been to the doctor Dr. Meany was nowhere in sight. I decided to go with the flow and let Dad take me in. He let me help him fill out some forms and then he let me play with some toys on the floor and say "hi" to the baby in the carrier that was on the floor next to me. I pulled myself up onto my knees to get a better look at him and smiled as I patted his foot. He smiled back at me. We had a connection.

Too soon I had to go into another room with Dad where he took off all my clothes. This, too is normal for going to the doctor. The door opened. The doctor walked in. IT WAS DR. MEANY!!!!!!!!

I immediately started screaming and tried to jump off the table that Dad had me on. Dr. Meany asked Dad some questions and had him hold me while Dr. Meany poked me and prodded me. I would have nothing to do with it. I twisted away when I could. I kicked when I was able. And I didn't stop screaming for one instant while Dr. Meany was in the room. If Dad wouldn't save me from this pain stick wielding monster then maybe someone out in the waiting room would hear me and come running. Maybe the nice Mom of the baby I had smiled at before. I didn't care who it was - as long as they saved me from Dr. Meany! Dr. Meany had this big string that I thought he'd use to choke me - but instead he put one end on my foot and the other on my head. It didn't hurt, but I still cried. Then he had a big stick that he shoved into my ear. That didn't hurt either, but I still cried. Then he stuck a stick into my mouth. I tried to clamp my jaw shut so he wouldn't put a pain stick on my new teeth, but I wasn't strong enough. The stick made me choke a little bit and I cried some more. The Dad held me on his lap and Dr. Meany got out the tiniest pain stick I'd ever seen. He pricked my finger with it and some red stuff shot out. That did hurt a bit, so I knew I was right in continuing to cry. Then he got out a big pain stick and jabbed me in the leg like he did last time I saw him. I wailed more. I think Dad has a stone for a heart. He just sat there with me, holding me down, while I cried about how this awful fiend had his way with me. He's cold.

After Dr. Meany was done and I had all my clothes back on I finally stopped crying. Eventually we went back into the car and started home. For some reason the ride home was a lot longer than the ride to Dr. Meany's office, so I was able to fall asleep on the way. I was so tired that I didn't even really realize what was going on when Dad carried me from the car to my crib. I assume it was Dad that did it since there was no one else in the house but Dad when I woke up.

That didn't last for long, though. In the afternoon two men came over with their big, stompy boots and hung out in our basement. I don't know what they were doing in there, but there was a lot of loud banging and drilling coming from the basement while they were there. Then they went upstairs and one hung out in my room while another went into the attic. They were so loud that I could hear them from downstairs as Dad changed my diaper on the floor. They stayed for a long time - longer than I wanted - and I started getting tired. But the men were still playing in my room so I couldn't go to sleep. My routine was foiled again! Dad had a quick thought after I told him I wanted to sleep and put together the portable crib that I use when we go to see Auntie First or Grandma Tigger. I managed to sleep in that in the kitchen for an hour until the men stomped through in their big boots as they left. That woke me up even though I was still tired.

I made the mistake of telling Dad I was tired after the men left and he tried to put me in my real crib to take another nap. But by this time I was up and didn't want to sleep (even though I was tired). So I yelled at him for a while from my crib until he came in and took me back to the living room to play on the floor. When Mom got home we were finally able to get back into a routine and I had my beans and my yogurt and my O's. Then it was diary time and after I'm done here it will be bed time. Ah, sweet routine. I missed it all day. It's so stressful and noisy when the routine is gone. It's so nice to have it back.

2003-03-10T09:01:00.000-05:00

This weekend was so much fun that I didn't even get a chance to write about it in my diary. That's a lot of fun!

On Saturday Mom and Dad and I went to visit my friend Ben and his parents. I like playing with Ben - it's like being around Ryan and Rachel. He can climb stairs and he eats regular food just like grown up kids do, but he also drinks from a bottle just like me. I was excited to go to see Ben, but little did I know that there would be another person there that I could play with too! Ethan is a new person I've not met before. His parents are friends of Mom and Dad and of Ben's parents. Ethan is bigger than me - he can walk around and eat food that doesn't come from a jar - but smaller than Ben or Ryan or Rachel. Ethan is just learning how to go down stairs by himself. Given that I'm just trying to figure out how to get from a sitting position into a standing position I watched him intently for a few minutes. Unfortunately, his Dad was in the way a lot of the time so I just went back to playing with a ball that Ben had lying around.

Balls! Have I mentioned my new favorite toy yet? Last weekend I saw a baby and named that my favorite toy. This week I got one of Ryan's cars at Patty's house and that was my favorite toy. Sometimes at Patty's I can play with some balls that she has there, but none of those compare to the ball at Ben's house that I played with. It was just the right size for me to pick up but too big to really go into my mouth. Unlike some of the balls I played with at Patty's house, this ball bounced a lot and would get away from me. So I needed to crawl after it and pick it up. That ball was awesome! When it was time to leave Ben's house I wanted to take some of his toys with me. The waddling ducks were fun and made a noise that had Mom and Dad copying it to me the next day. Ben's stacking cups were smaller than mine, but they went a lot higher than mine when they were stacked. But of all of the cool toys he had, I wanted Ben's bouncy ball the most.

Sunday was a normal weekend day for the first half of the day. Dad and I got up together and had breakfast. Then Mom came down and played with me some. I was going to write in my diary then, but I got tired pretty quickly and went back to bed to take a nap. When I got up Mom had already gone out to the store and come back with the most amazing find - Ben's ball! I couldn't believe my luck. She had somehow found the exact kind of ball that I was playing with at Ben's house! I hugged the ball to my chest and laughed and bounced up and down I was so excited. After I played with it on my own for a little while Mom pushed the ball out of my hands and it rolled over to where Dad was sitting on the floor. I was hurt - why would she take the ball away from me? I started to crawl over to where Dad was when he pushed the ball out of his hands and it rolled right back into my arms. Wow! How did the ball know to do that? I played with it a little more when Mom put my hands on the ball and together we pushed it away to Dad. He caught it and pushed it right back to me. This was a great game!

Dad and Mom and I played on the floor for a while until I had gotten the hang of pushing the ball away. It's really simple once you know how to do it: Just put your hands out in front of you and move them up and down until the ball is hit and it rolls away. It's a really fun time. After my afternoon nap I played on the floor with my ball some more and practiced rolling it away. Something that I noticed is that when I don't actually roll it to someone the ball doesn't come back automatically. So I have to crawl over and get it before I can play with it again. That's almost as much fun as playing ball with someone else - but not quite. I'm going to take my ball to Patty's today to see if she wants to play ball with me. I would play with Ryan and Rachel, but sometimes when I share with them they don't share back. So I'm not sure that they would roll the ball back to me if I rolled it to them. With Patty or Mom or Dad I'm always sure where I stand: I always get the toy back.

2003-03-07T22:37:00.000-05:00

There is an itching in my pants and an itching in my mouth. But at least it's not the tickle.

The itching in my pants started about a week and a half ago. Some time ago (maybe three weeks?) I felt really warm towards the front of my diaper. It was like there was some sort of raw fire that pulsed and throbbed in the night. When I sat the wrong way it hurt quite a bit. I thought it was that nasty tickle at first (and even suggested that it was in my diary entry at the time) but I found out later that it wasn't a tickle that was inside my body, but rather it was a rash that was outside of my body. Mom and Dad and Patty started putting butt balm and powder on me every time they changed my diaper. Within a few days the tickle (as I still thought of it) started going away and soon the throbbing was gone altogether.

I still felt a little tender down under my diaper, though. Mom and Dad and Patty still kept putting on the butt balm and the powder. The rash receded further and I didn't feel the warm tickle at all. But then, about a week ago, the itching started. The itch is different than the tickle. I can feel it completely on top of my skin, not on top and underneath like the tickle. It's not in the same place in my diaper that the tickle was in. The itch started down where the floor meets my butt and started floating up towards my head. I couldn't get at the itch because the diaper was in the way. Mom and Dad and Patty started putting the butt balm in different places - instead of the front of my diaper they now put the lotion on the bottom and in the back of my diaper. It feels good when the butt balm first goes on, but within about an hour the itching starts again. It doesn't make me mad or sad, but itching is annoying and can make me a little cranky - especially after I've peed or pooped and the balm washes around with whatever else is in my diaper. That's when the itching gets really bad. It's gotten to the point that today I could almost feel it moving up my back and towards my front again. Tonight when Mom changed my diaper she put the most amount of butt balm on me that I've ever had. Dad even had to hold my legs up so she could get at all of the itch and cover it with the lotion. The lotion felt so good going on. The slight burning went away almost immediately and the lotion made the itching stop altogether. I know I'll sleep well tonight after I'm done with my diary.

The other itch is in my mouth. Every now and then over the past few weeks I've felt the tickle hiding in my mouth. It would hang out there for a little while and then go away. It was as if something sharp were poking me in the top of my gums. After a while I got used to the tickle's occasional visits and didn't even think twice about them any more. Yesterday and today, though, the tickle didn't come to my mouth at all. Instead the itch was there. When the itch arrives I just want to scratch at my gums with something like my car or my cup or something. Scratching makes the itch feel better. A couple of times I put my fist in my mouth to scratch and I've noticed that there's something sitting right on top of my gums in the top part of my mouth. In fact, there's three somethings. They are like little ridges and they are right where the itches sit when they are at their worst. Strangely, they are also right in the same place that the tickle was when it was bothering me so much. I wonder if the tickle and the itch are related to the ridges?

I'm hoping that the itches go away soon. I can deal with them just fine, but I like it better when they aren't there. With the itches gone I can concentrate on more important things. Like getting at those papers that are on the floor that Mom and Dad keep pulling me away from. They will be mine. Oh, yes, those papers will be mine.

2003-03-05T21:43:00.000-05:00

Last night I woke up because there was a monster in the room.

Really. A monster. I saw the monster reach down and put the covers back on me that I had so diligently kicked off. The monster had big claw hands and funny rings around his eyes. I saw the monster but I couldn't do anything, I was so scared. Then the monster went away and I found my voice. I screamed really loud. No one came to get me, which was bad. I screamed some more. Still there was no one. I screamed even louder and finally Mom came to pick me up and hold me and tell me that there was no monster. Dad came in too at that point to help me out. He looked a little ominous with his glasses and his bathrobe. I cried and whined because I didn't want to go back to bed while the monster was in the house. Dad left to see if he could find the monster.

"Don't go, Dad! The monster will get you," I cried as Dad left the room.

Dad didn't find a monster but he did find a bottle. When I saw the bottle I realized that I was hungry - which is odd because normally at night I'm not. So I took the bottle and sucked it down quick as I could in case the monster came back. When I was done Mom tried giving me a burpie pat but I wanted to go crawl around the bed. She kept on trying as I was crawling away and something that she hit inside of me must have been the wrong button because out came the formula all over my pajamas and Mom's bed and everything. For some reason the formula that came out didn't taste like it did going down. It tasted all bitter and sour. And it smelled foul too. It was awful. First a monster and then a nasty smell of vomited formula? No way I was going back to bed any time soon!

Eventually I fell asleep in Mom and Dad's bed and woke up in my own. When I woke up I thought I heard the monster come back and I was still hungry, so I cried out to Mom for some food and some hugs. This time she came right away and I got both my hugs and my food pretty quickly. Since I could still smell the awful sourness of the puke on Mom's comforter I paced myself on the food. This time I didn't spit any back up. After I was finished with the food I wanted to play, but Mom and Dad weren't in the mood to play with me so Mom put me in my crib to play with my toys by myself. I'm used to playing with myself in my crib in the dark - it's what I do every morning before Mom and Dad get up. Eventually I got tired of playing with the toys and just got plain old tired and fell asleep.

This morning Mom left for work without me and Dad stuck around for a little while. The Kim showed up with Alanna and we had a great time. In fact, I wanted to be sure that Mom and Dad knew how wonderful it was to have Kim with me at home, so I had Kim write a note to them. It went like this:

Mom and Dad:
I had so much fun today playing with Kim and Alanna. I am not too sure why Kim come to my house instead of going to Bridgewater but it was nice getting to nap in my own crib. This morning after Dad left I finished my bottle, played with some of my toys and them went to sleep. I napped from 10-ish to 12:30-ish and when I woke up Kim fed me some yummy lunch. I ate turkey and sweet potatoes and another bottle. After lunch I showed Alanna and Kim how I crawl now and then they gave me a few Os. Around 3:30 I went back to sleep, since I didn't sleep much last night. Kim woke me up at 5 PM and I was happy as can be playing with my toys. I missed you guys today but I had a delicious day with the girls.

Love, Morgan Rose.

2003-03-02T23:18:00.000-05:00

So many things happened this weekend, I barely know where to begin!

I'll start with what I was writing about on Friday: Crawling. A couple of hours after I got to Patty's house I had tried out all of the combinations that I couldn't quite get the trick down of crawling forward. The closest I came was "hand leg hand hand leg". That got me forward a little but then it fell apart. I was getting really down when I tried a new trick. On a complete whim I rocked forward by moving my hand and then my leg at almost the exact same time. I moved forward. A lot! I had the trick!

I practiced my new trick for the rest of the day at Patty's and showed off for Dad when he came to pick me up. He was very proud, and Patty was smiling a lot she was so happy to see my tricks. Dad said that Nana would be so happy to see me crawling when we visited her over the weekend.

"And Mom too, Dad." I said to him after I had put on the dreaded, horrible fleece.

"Mom will need to wait for a couple of days to see your crawling, little girl," Dad said. "She had to go away with Kim and her school friends for the weekend."

I was really sad that I wouldn't see Mom for a whole weekend. But Dad reminded me that it would give me more time to practice so that when Mom did come home I could show her what I could do. And practice I did. I moved all around the family room and ventured out into both the hallway on one side of the room and the kitchen on the other side. Once in the Kitchen I started to explore areas I'd never been in before. I didn't know that there was a tag on the rug where Dad and Mom keep their shoes by the door! It was so ratty, though, that it tore off easily when I pulled on it. Good tags never do that. I tried to get all the way from the doormat to the kitchen table. But that's over 20 feet away and I'm not quite that good yet. I got tired half way through and needed Dad to help me to the table. Upstairs I practiced in Dad's office by going to his bookshelf and pulling down the books on the bottom shelf. They are a lot thicker than my books and thump really nicely when I hit them with my hand. They're not quite as good to put in my mouth, though, as the pages get soggy. I wonder why the people who make Dad's books don't make their pages more waterproof like my books?

True to his word, Dad took me to Nana and Papa's house on Saturday so I could play. I thought that I was going to show off for Nana, but it turns out that there were more interesting things to do there than practice crawling. It all started when Nana, Papa, and Dad were eating. I wanted to eat too so I started making some noise from my high chair. Nana then pulled out this big yellow box and poured tiny grayish-white rings onto my tray. She called them "Cheerios", or just "Os" for short. At first I didn't know what to do with the Os. I put one in my mouth and tried to swallow it. I choked a bit, but I got it down. When Nana saw me choking she cut the Os into halves and left the semi-circles on my tray with a couple of whole Os. At first I couldn't get the half-Os into my mouth properly because I couldn't figure out just where near my mouth I needed to let go of the O for it to catch on my tongue. They are great! And best of all I can do it all myself! It has taken a couple of days of practice now, but I have gotten to the point where I can get at least as many Os or half-Os into my mouth as fall onto my seat or back onto my tray.

Finally there was another thing at Nana's that really made my day. I was playing on the floor with Nana and Auntie Becky and Cousin Jessie when over in the distance I saw them - twin babies! But these babies weren't like me or Cousin Shannon or Cousin Catelyn. No, these babies were actually much smaller than any of us. It's almost as if the twin babies were the size that we would be if we were as big as Mom or Dad. It's like I had a baby of my own! I crawled to one of the babies and touched its ear. It didn't move and the ear felt solid - like one of my beads. I touched its hand. Same thing. Then I realized - the baby was a toy! Knowing that it was OK to play with the baby toy any way I wanted I picked it up and tried to put its head in my mouth. It's what I do.

Nana and Auntie Becky saw how much I loved playing with the baby toys that they let me take one home with me. I've been playing with it all day long. Dad would play with the toy in the far corner of the room and I would crawl to him to get it. Then when I got the baby I would put its hand in my mouth like Dad puts my hand in his mouth when we play. I'd shake the baby and then, when I tired of it, I would go find another toy. But even though I sometimes tired of the baby I still went back to it every hour or so. It was just that much fun to play with.

Mom finally came home and I told her all about crawling and about the baby and about the Os and Nana and Auntie Becky and Cousin Catelyn and Jessie and Papa and the tag on the mat and everything! She was so happy to see my and so excited about all my news that she said that she almost cried. She didn't really cry, so that's OK. But she gave me lots of hugs and my dinner and a bath - so it was almost like she had never been gone. What a weekend!

2003-02-28T08:01:00.000-05:00

Hand then leg. Hand hand leg - No. Start over. Hand then leg.

This crawling thing is a little harder than I thought it was going to be. I can certainly get around my house and Patty's house pretty well anyway, though. A couple of days ago I managed to get from Patty's living room all the way over to the kitchen, where Patty was doing some work. It took a long time and a lot of rocking and rolling and pivoting, but I got all the way over to Patty eventually. I just wanted to say "Hi".

Yesterday I started thinking about the crawling and rocking and rolling more seriously. Everyone has been telling me that "I'm close". I believe that they know what they're talking about since all of the people saying it can actually walk around with no problem. They've been there before. If they say I'm close then they must be right. I know that "leg leg rock hand hand rock leg leg" will make me move backwards. Dad doesn't believe me as he's typing this into the Internet, so I just showed him from the floor. See, Dad, I was right - "leg leg rock hand hand rock leg leg" = backwards. [Ed. note: She's right.]

Anyway, I've got to figure out the right combination for moving forward without needing to pivot and roll then move backwards. I think it starts with hand then leg. I've worked that much out. In fact, I'll try it out right now. Hand then leg then hand then... a little bit forward. But it's so frustrating that it's so little. Rock rock leg... no that's backwards again. Pivot roll sit up. Now I'm back in the middle of the room. Dad, look at me! I'm in the middle of the room again. What are those papers over there? Did Mom leave them for me? I'm going to go get them. Hand then leg then... ahhh, I'll just get there the way I know how to do. Pivot then rock then pivot then leg leg rock hand hand rock leg leg. There. Ooohh, the fun papers. I wonder what they taste like? I'll just grab one and then - hey, Dad! Give me that back. I don't want to give it up! Give it back.

Now I'm in the center of the floor again and I don't want to write in the diary anymore. Dad, I don't care about the Internet. Just pick me up off the floor. I don't want to write anymore. I want to go to Patty's house!

2003-02-25T19:58:00.000-05:00

There's always something new that happens to me when we go out to eat. That's why I like it so much.

A couple of nights ago Mom and Dad and I went out to a place that we've been before called "The Tavern". Last time I went there I sat in my car seat, but this time I got to sit in the big-girl high chair. I've sat in chairs like that before, so Mom knows to bring a lot of blankets to stuff behind my back so that I don't end up leaning back and sliding out of the chair. The new thing that happened was that Mom found a way to tie my toys to the chair so they didn't fall on the ground. She used some of the plastic chain links that are in my toy box to do this. One end of the links got clicked around a piece of the chair. The other end of the links got clicked to my toy. So not only did I have a toy that I could always get, even when I dropped it, but I also got to play with the links and stick them into my mouth.

I have to admit, though, that having the links made me miss my favorite game with Mom and Dad - the one where I drop the toy and look for it on the ground until one of them picks it up. That is a very fun game.

A few nights before that we went out and the new thing this time was food. Mom and Dad have great food that gets served to them in cups and on plates. All of my food comes from a jar. But that night I got to drink some of Dad's drink from his cup. Well, not directly from the cup. I've tried that before and I'm usually pretty wet by the time I'm done. No, this time Dad put some of his drink into a straw and then stuck the straw into my mouth so I could slurp the drink down myself. I thought I was really in for a treat, but it turns out that the drink was just water. I get that in my sippy cup at Patty's, too. I would've spit out the water but I was so enthralled with the sucking through a straw that I didn't.

Also that night I got to have something new for desert. It's called whipped cream. Dad got a dessert that was brown on the bottom and white on the top. I didn't get to eat any of the brown stuff, but the white stuff (this whipped cream) was really, really good. Mom ate some off of her spoon and then she let me have some off of her spoon too. I loved it so much that I opened my mouth for more when Mom moved the spoon back up to her mouth. Mom obliged me and together we managed to finish off the white whipped cream before Dad could even take a bite. He seemed to like his brown stuff, though, so he seemed pretty happy with the deal.

The last new thing that I've had recently I just had tonight. We didn't go out to eat, so I almost didn't mention it, but it was memorable nonetheless. While Mom and Dad were eating tonight I got to try something called strawberries. My strawberries came all sliced up into little squishy pieces that were difficult to pick up. And once I did pick them up I had trouble getting them from my hand to my mouth. Mom and Dad both helped me eat the strawberries, which were yummy. Even though I liked them, though, my tummy didn't and I threw the strawberries up again after a few minutes. It's really too bad because they tasted quite good. Mom told me that I wouldn't get any more strawberries for a while, which made me sad. But then she gave me some blueberry yogurt, which made me forget all about the other berries. Yummy yogurt. I can't get enough.

2003-02-22T21:34:00.000-05:00

I love rock and roll!

Way back when - almost half of my lifetime ago - I started rolling around. I was very hesitant at first and I remember really not liking being on my belly at all. So I would be on my back and I'd try real hard to get onto my belly and then I'd be really pissed off and sad that I was on my belly. I don't remember much about why I was sad about what Mom called belly-time, but I was. I've been practicing since then on my rolling. I would practice on the floor. I would practice in my crib. I would practice in Mom and Dad's bed when they played with me in the morning. I would practice at Patty's house. I would practice at Kim and Christine's. I practiced a lot. Eventually I grew to like being on my belly and I got to the point where I could roll from back to front whenever I liked. And that's a good thing because rolling, it turns out, is one of the keys to getting around by myself.

Rocking is a new thing to me. It all happened a few weeks ago. I wanted to practice my rolling a little more so I went from my sitting position to my belly. It's easy to get my first foot out from under me when moving from one position to the other, but the second foot is always hard. It was as I was trying to pull the second foot out (when I was holding the ground with my hands) that I noticed that if I rocked back and forth on my hands and leg the second leg came out much easier. A few days later I noticed that if I pushed up just right on my hands I could get to that same hands and knees position and could rock some more. At first I rocked because it was something fun to do. Then, last week, I noticed that after I was done rocking I was in a different place on the floor than I had previously been. Interesting! So, as I had practiced rocking before, I am now practicing rocking.

After I started feeling better from that awful tickle I started seeing what would happen if I did the rocking and the rolling at nearly the same time. I started sitting down and pivoted onto my hands and knees. There I rocked for a little bit. I rocked and rocked and suddenly I found that my legs were underneath the sofa! That was really weird, as I had started out in the middle of the room. I cried some, because I didn't want to be under the sofa, and Mom came in and put me back in the middle of the room.

The rock and the roll all started coming together today. I saw a toy over in the left hand side of the room and clearly out of reach. I wanted the toy. So I rocked up on my hands and knees and then rolled a little to my left. The position felt familiar... kind of like how it feels when I go from sitting to on my belly. I tucked in my leg a little (reversing the kicking out that I need to do when I'm trying to lie down from a sitting position) and -*poof*- I was sitting up and was closer to the toy!

I sat there for a little bit and thought about what I had done. I had gone from a lying down to a sitting position. That was new. But even more important, I had figured out how to merge the rocking and the rolling into motion that got me closer to the things I wanted. It wasn't running around like the big kids, but it was a start. I studied where the toy was, pivoted on my butt a little (a trick I picked up a few weeks ago at Patty's house) and then went back down on my belly. This time my head was pointed away from the toy. But that was fine - I knew where I wanted to go. I just needed to get up on my hands and knees and rock backwards until I could see it. It took a little bit, but I managed to get close to the toy by rocking. I saw it over to my left. So I rolled over and there it was - right next to me! I played with it a little from my back but what I really wanted to do was play with it while sitting up. So I flipped back onto my belly and rocked up. One quick maneuver later and I was sitting up. I pivoted my butt a little and sure enough I was right next to the toy!

I loved playing with that toy right then. Not only is it a great toy (a talking telephone that counts when you press numbers) but I loved the fact that it was across the room and I figured out how to get to it. I wanted it and I got it. What a great day! Now if I could just figure out how to rock and go forward instead of just going backwards. But for now rock and roll is here to stay - and that's just fine with me.

2003-02-20T08:43:00.000-05:00

How can it be that it is already Thursday when I know I wrote in my diary just recently? Yet when I look at the archive I see that it was Sunday when I last made an entry. Where does the time go?

I think it goes to the place that makes winter grow longer and longer. I've been hoping that the winter would go away so I wouldn't need a fleece when I go outside. It just got colder. I'd been hoping that the sun would come out and warm me up as I bask in its rays - like I did back in the summer. Instead it snowed. And then it snowed some more. And then, the next day, it snowed again. When the sun finally came back out it was noticeably warmer (even though Mom and Dad still forced me to wear a fleece) but now there are huge piles of white snow on the ground. Before, when it snowed, the world looked white but you could still tell where the grass was and where the bushes were and where the road is. Now, though, the world looks both white and puffy. Mom showed me how the snow is piled up over our front steps and drifted against our front door. In the summer time I would sit on those steps with Dad or Mom and we would hang out in the sun. After the snow the steps aren't even there any more.

My fleece is starting to get a little snug these days. My feet stick through the feet holes more often than not now, and it's starting to feel snug when I get snapped into it. I was hoping that since the fleece was getting tight and since Mom gives me new clothes when my other outfits get tight that maybe I would either get a new fleece or I wouldn't have to wear one at all. I didn't get my wish at all. Mom and Dad won't let me go outside without something warm and bulky on, so instead of a fleece they have started using this exceptionally awful snowsuit. It's, if anything, bigger and more annoying than the fleece. At least in the fleece I can poke my hands out of the hand holes and grab a toy. In the snowsuit, even if I could poke my hands out of the holes, I can't even bend my arms to play with anything. It's awful! I can't stand being in it at all! I have been crying so much when they put me into it that Mom and Dad have gone back to putting me in the fleece. Hanging out in a tight outfit is far preferable to hanging out in one that doesn't even allow me to move!

I really am sick of winter. It's my least favorite of the three seasons. It was summer when I first arrived on the scene. It was sunny and nice, if a little bit overly hot sometimes. But at least I didn't need to wear anything extra to go outside. Then the fall came and the weather cooled to the point where it wasn't nice to go outside anymore. I thought that was bad. But then winter came with all its cold and snow and fleeces. I just want to go back to summer soon so I can be Outside again and not have to go through so much trouble and discomfort just to step out the door. When does that season come back?

2003-02-16T14:15:00.000-05:00

Mom and Dad taught me a new word today. It's an important word that they say will inform my entire life. It's irony.

Before Mom and Dad taught me this word I would have thought that irony is the thing that Mom uses in the morning to iron her pants. It makes sense to me. After all, lamby is the thing that is soft to lie on and has a head that looks like a lamb; roary is the lion that roars; fleecy is the horrid fleece that I wear in the morning when we go out in the cold. Why wouldn't irony be the thing with which Mom does her ironing?

It's not. Irony is when you say or think something that you know is absolutely true but then something happens that makes it certain that what you said or thought is not true at all. In my case, I thought sure that I was done being sick. I was so sure that yesterday when I wrote in my diary I didn't mention being sick at all - for the first time in a long time. Irony happened today because even though I was sure that I was all better I still had to go to the doctor's office.

I felt great yesterday. I was happy and playing for most of the day. I had some good naps and ate all of my food. I hung out with Mom and with Dad and had all sorts of fun. Like I said, I felt great. Then the lights went out for my sleep time at night and the tickle came back. In fact, the tickle didn't just saunter into my head and do a little dance - it pounced all over me, making me cry so hard that Mom and Dad picked me up and let me spend the night with them. That's bad! That never, ever happens.

The tickle was sitting in my ear - scratching it with its crooked, pointy finger. Every time I tried to catch it by trying to dig it out with my finger it raced around my head and down into my diaper. There it sat, agitating me and making me more and more uncomfortable, before racing back up to my ear once my finger was gone. It was a nightmare. I couldn't keep up with the tickle, it was so fast. It hurt a lot, so I cried a lot. That was when Mom and Dad brought me into bed with them. Mom was able to calm me down a little bit, but I really felt better when Dad held me and pretended that he was my fish machine. He put his arm under my head and made a whoosh-whoosh sound just like my fish do. While he did this, Mom rubbed my hands. I think that the tickle felt as calmed by the both of them as I was so it didn't have any energy to run around any more. And when the tickle stopped messing with my ears and diaper I fell right to sleep.

The tickle came back a couple of hours later. At that time I found that I was mysteriously back in my crib and not with Mom and Dad anymore. I yelled, "tickle go away!" but the tickle just stayed in my body and laughed as it raced from my head to my diaper. I yelled some more and finally Dad came to pick me up again and Mom let me sleep next to her for the rest of the night. It's funny how when I get to sleep with Mom the tickle seems to go away. How does that work?

Anyway, this morning Mom and Dad decided that I was sick enough to go to the doctor, even though I had thought yesterday that I was all better and that the tickle was gone. That's when they told me about irony. I agreed with them that maybe the doctor would have something to give me that would chase the tickle away for good, so I agreed to go. When we went to the doctor's office we drove right past Dr. Meany's office and went to Dr. Killer's office. But this time I didn't see Dr. Killer. Instead I saw a nice lady who didn't have any pain sticks and let me stay in Mom's arms when she examined me. She also let me sit in the big scale on the counter and climb all over the scale's big bar. She was nice. I wish I could go to her all the time instead of Dr. Meany. She looked in both my ears for the tickle but said she couldn't find it anywhere. Then she looked in my diaper for the tickle and said that she saw something that might be the tickle's house. It's apparently a rash that sits on the place where the pee comes out under my diaper. I wouldn't know about the rash because I can't see down there under the diaper. She told Mom and Dad what to do to make the tickle's house go away but didn't give them any special medicine to help. Apparently, they already had the medicine they would need to make the tickle's house in my pants go away. Also, the nice doctor didn't really tell them to do anything other than what they were already doing if the tickle comes back to my head. Since she didn't see the tickle's house in my head she couldn't give me any special medicine to help. I just had to keep taking the normal baby medicine that Mom had given me to help me to finally get to sleep last night.

When Mom and Dad told me about irony and how I had to go to the doctor's office they were right. It was ironic that I thought I was better during the day and yet got hammered by the tickle that night. But now that I know about irony I think that I found it again. Mom and Dad were so sure that the doctor would cure my tickle that they took me out into the cold to the doctor's office and expected some special medicine when the doctor was finished. Instead, the doctor told them that I was mostly fine (even though she saw what the tickle was doing under my diaper) and told them no special medicine was needed. It's ironic that they thought they'd get a special cure and it turned out that the cure was in their hands all the time and was, in fact, just what they were doing anyway. Even though they were wrong about the doctor's visit curing me they were absolutely right about one thing, though. Irony sure is happening a lot in my life now. After all, it's happened twice in just one day.

2003-02-15T20:47:00.000-05:00

Crunch! Crunch! Scrape scrape Crunch!

I've got two teeth. I've had them for a while now, but only recently have they grown long enough that I can use them to do tricks. The trick that I've been working on most recently is eating my toast like Mom and Dad do. When they eat their food they bite and break it into bits. Then they chew it up and swallow it. When I eat my food it's always with a spoon. My carrots fit on a spoon. My beans fit on a spoon. There's no food that I get that will help me eat like Mom and Dad.

Except toast.

Mom and Dad give me toast when I've finished my meal and they are still eating. Before this week, when I've eaten toast, I have sucked on it until it gets all pasty like the rest of my food. Then I suck off one of the chunks of toast and try to swallow it. Sometimes the swallowing works and sometimes it doesn't. When it doesn't I start choking some because the piece of toast gets lodged in my throat. It's too big to go down. By using my teeth, though, that problem doesn't happen.

When I practiced the trick with my teeth I take a piece of toast and I stick just the tip of it into my mouth. Then I push down on the piece of toast and pull the toast out of my mouth. Scrrape goes the toast, and a little piece comes off in my mouth. It's just the right size for me to suck on a bit and easy down my throat. Then I do it again. Creck! goes the toast and another little piece comes off. Slowly the toast gets smaller and smaller but it doesn't get gooier and gooier. And the best part is that there's no choking!

I'm hoping that soon I'll start growing a couple of more teeth so I can try chewing a little more. The chewing I do now is mostly done with my tongue and the top of my mouth, but I think it would be a little more effective if I could chomp on pieces of food like Mom and Dad do. Ryan and Rachel seem to like doing it and they get to eat a lot more fun things than I do. Some of their food comes in rings or squares. Their food isn't just paste like mine. I like my food. A lot. But I think I'd love to be like the big kids and the grown-ups and eat things that don't come out of a jar. So I scrape my toast on my teeth. I'm practicing.

2003-02-13T08:45:00.000-05:00

I hate being sick. When you're sick all of the days blend into each other so you don't know one day from the next. When you're sick you forget about things that are important and that you want to do but don't have the time or energy to do. When you're sick you don't want to eat or sleep or play or anything. I hate being sick.

It's been too long since I wrote in the diary. It's because I was sick. It wasn't a sickness that had me throwing up or going to the doctor. Instead, it was a sickness that simply made me feel like I was not really there. Yesterday, for instance, Dad had signed onto the Internet and asked if I wanted to write anything. Often, when I write this diary, I am sitting in his lap or on the floor in the computer room telling him what I want to say. When I sit on his lap I usually try to help him out by banging on the keyboard myself or trying to grab the cords behind the keyboard and mouse. Yesterday, though, when Dad asked what I wanted to write I said, "nothing" in a quiet voice. I wasn't feeling like myself. It was like I wasn't really there. I didn't want to move my arms or turn my head or do anything other than sit. I felt sick.

When you're sick you don't want to eat much. Mom or Dad or Patty have been trying to feed me my jars of food, but I really don't want all that much. Patty tried something a couple of days ago that was just awful. I pushed the spoon away with my hands and turned away, it was so bad. She knew right away that I didn't want it and put it up. Last night when I did the same thing with Dad's sweet potatoes I did the same thing, but he didn't seem to know that this meant that I didn't want any food. He kept trying to give me the spoon and eventually he managed to get the sweet potatoes all over both him and me. It wasn't my fault that my hand got in the sweet potatoes in the spoon and then got wiped all over our clothes. He should've listened more to what I was saying and known that when I wave my hands in front of the spoon, shake my head from side to side, and turn away from the food that I'm really saying "No". Usually he's very good about these things.

Sometimes, when you're sick, you don't even want to have a bottle. That happened a few days ago. I'd take a sip of my bottle and then realize that it really wasn't at all what I wanted. It didn't taste right and it hurt my throat a little bit to swallow. Sometimes I felt a little hungry, but I was feeling out of sorts so I didn't want to eat or swallow anything. It was a real pain. Yesterday I felt a little better about having a bottle. Kim and I ate all of the formula that we could find and then, when there was none left, I tried to drink just water. Mom and Dad do that all the time, but I don't know how they manage it. It's so tasteless. Maybe when you get old you lose your sense of taste. I know when I've gotten older I've become desensitized to the taste of formula. It was really icky before, but now I actually look forward to having it. Maybe when you're really old you look forward to water. I don't know.

I'm feeling better this morning. I woke up and didn't feel the tickle in my head or in my throat. The coughing is going away and doesn't hurt as much anymore. And I actually wanted to have some cereal, fruits, and my bottle this morning. That makes me hopeful that the sickness is gone. Now if only the cold weather would go away too everything would be just fine.

2003-02-09T15:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was fun. Nana and Papa came over to take care of me while Mom and Dad spent the day out. At first, when Nana and Papa came over, I was a little confused. I knew that Nana was Nana, but she looked a little different. Her hair wasn't as yellow as it normally is. And she looked thinner. It was like Nana had shrunk some. Papa looked like Papa but I never really noticed before that he has glasses like Dad's that I can play with. I got over my confusion after a couple of minutes and was happily playing with both of them like they had always been here. But that first couple of minutes were a little strange.

Papa and I played on the floor for a little bit after Mom and Dad left and then Nana and I played some games. The games that Nana taught me were new ones that I had never seen before. One of them was "So big". That game involves Nana saying "So big" and holding her hands in the air over her head. A couple of times Nana said "So big" and pulled my hands up over my head. After the third time I got it. When Nana said "So big" we were supposed to put our hands up together. The next time she said "So big" and put her hands up I put my hands up as far as I could and clasped them over my head. My arms don't reach as far as Nana's, though, so my hands were clasped at my forehead instead of above my head. Still, Nana was very happy that I was playing so well, which made me laugh and giggle too.

After a nap and a bottle Nana taught me another game. In this one she would clap her hands and say "Yay Morgan". Then she did the same thing but instead of clapping she took my hands and put them together like I was clapping. Like I was clapping.... Of course! That's how to clap! Next time she clapped I took my hands and patted them together. They didn't make a noise like Nana's hands, but still Nana cheered me on. I was clapping! Yay!

Nana and Papa and I were having such a good time that it was almost too bad when Mom and Dad came home. I thought that Nana and Papa would leave right away. But instead we all went out to dinner. We had to wait for a table for a little while, so I say on Dad's lap and then on Mom's lap while they talked with nana and Papa about silly adult things. When we were seated I got to sit in a big-girl high chair instead of my car seat. That was fun for a little while, but then I started to get really tired so Mom put me in my car seat anyway. I didn't much want to be in the car seat so everyone took turns holding me while they ate. That was fun - it was like being at lunch with Kim and Christine except that Nana and Papa and Mom and Dad were there.

When we got home the fun ended. The tickle, which has been hanging around for a while now, came back with a vengeance last night. Normally the tickle goes from my tummy to my head and back. But last night it stayed in my throat, making me cough for what seemed to be half the night. Right when I would get to sleep the tickle would grab me in the throat. I would cough as much as I could to get the tickle out, but my coughing woke me up. I was really tired so I tried to go right back to sleep, but then as I was drifting off the tickle struck again. It got so frustrating that I started to cry, which just made things worse. Eventually I guess I was able to get back to sleep without the cough yanking me out of my dreams, but only after I fell asleep next to Mom in her bed. I say I guess, because the last thing that I remember in the night was snuggling into Mom's nightshirt. This morning I found myself back in my crib. I'm not sure how I got there, but the cough followed me from Mom's bed to my crib. I woke up coughing this morning.

Today has been OK so far. I haven't been too hungry, what with the cough and the tickle, but I've still been playing and having a good time. The cough came to me during my naps again today, but it wasn't so bad that I woke up more than once or twice. I just hope that the cough and tickle don't come back tonight. I don't know if I could handle more than one night of hacking and coughing.

2003-02-06T21:20:00.000-05:00

I can feel it coming again. The sickness. I really wish winter were over by now.

I was feeling a little out of sorts this morning before Mom and I went to Patty's house. I had a running nose that Mom and Dad insisted on wiping, and I wasn't very hungry at all. I ate my cereal and my fruit, but I didn't want any of my formula. Normally I eat a little of the formula, but I just wasn't in the mood this morning. Like I said, I was a little off.

The feeling continued at Patty's house. I had a good nap in the morning and then had my first bottle of the day. Patty wiped my nose a lot, too, which I hated. I cried when she wiped my nose because I don't much like people touching or wiping my nose. Sometimes I'm OK with people going "boik" and putting the tip of their finger on my nose. But that's really all. Anyone else who wants to touch my nose (or, worse, wipe it) had better be ready for me to be mad at them.

I felt a little warm at Patty's house. But not warm like it's summer warm, but rather warm like the tickle is coming warm. I had some new jarred food that Patty said was apples and turkey. She said it didn't look very good, but I told her it tasted fine. Kind of like applesauce but with more of a "kick", as Mom would say. Then I played on the floor with my flat cups (as compared to the ones at home, which are my deep cups) and Ryan ran around for a while as I watched. Patty ran around wiping his nose too. He didn't much like it either.

Patty fed me some of my second bottle after play time was over, but I really didn't feel up for food. It's not that I was full, I just didn't want it. And I was still feeling warm. So Patty let me go to sleep for a little while, which was nice. When I got up I started to play on the floor again, but then Dad walked in and told me it was time to go home. He brought in my car seat and strapped me in without putting my fleece on. I got all excited that summer was here again, but it turns out that Dad was just lazy and didn't want to put my fleece on me. It was still cold out as we ran from Patty's house to the car. Thankfully the car was nice and warm and he put a blanket over me, so I didn't get that cold when I was outside. But I still didn't feel great.

When I got home Dad gave me some beans (love those beans) and then he tried to give me a bottle. I must have told him about 10 times that I didn't want the bottle because I wasn't feeling great, but he kept on coming back to the bottle every 10 minutes or so. I still wasn't feeling good - the tickle was in my eyes a little bit and I was starting to cough again. It felt a little like it did last time when the cough made me wheeze when I breathed. My nose was still running, too. Finally, Dad put me down for an evening nap, which made me pretty happy, truth be told.

Mom and Dad just got me up out of my evening nap to have some more dinner. I really don't want more dinner right now so I thought I'd write in my diary instead of eating. I suppose that I'll go downstairs and play some while I see if I want something to eat. The times when I have an evening nap are fun, but sometimes I'd just rather sleep than be up. I can't believe I actually said that. Me, the girl who wanted to stay up all the time to see what the world has to offer. But when I'm getting sick and not hungry I think that sleep sounds awfully good about now. Live and learn.

2003-02-04T08:58:00.000-05:00

I want to mobile. I really, really do!

Crawling. It has to happen soon. It's just a matter of pushing or pulling the right way. I know it is. So I've been experimenting with all sorts of pushing and pulling of every body part that I can think of that might help me move around. There are three positions that I can think of from which I should be able to move around: On my belly, on my back, and sitting up.

Sitting up first: This is the most promising of the three positions. Whenever I'm playing on the floor with my toys there's always at least one toy that is just out of my reach. Sometimes it's a rattle. Sometimes it's a cup. Sometimes it's a glass that Mom or Dad has put on the floor while they're playing with me. But there's always at least one. I lean over as far as I can without toppling over, but I still can't reach it. Just a few days ago I figured out that if, as I'm leaning, I pivot the leg that's underneath me I can end up a little closer to the toy out of my reach. The thing is, I also end up on my belly. Normally I'd hate that, but I've been noticing recently that being on my belly actually is the most promising position for movement around the house. Maybe that position isn't as nasty as I used to think it is.

So, the next position is the belly position: As I said, this is the one that holds the most promise. It's also the one that is the most frustrating. When I'm on my belly I can push up with my arms and then, if I push a little more, I can go backwards a little bit. That's movement, so it's good. But it's movement in the wrong direction, so that's bad. Also, I can't control where I go very well when I move backwards, so I often end up with my legs underneath a sofa or a chair. That is very frustrating. Also, when I move backwards I can only go for a little bit before I get tired. I can only push so far with may arms - maybe about a foot right now. This is not going to be helpful for getting around at all.

As I said, though, the belly position is still the position that holds the most hope even if it also hold the most frustration. On my belly I can not only push up on my arms, but I've been able to push up on my legs a little bit too. I'm sure that this is the key to movement - use of both arms and legs together. The thing is, I've got no clue as to how the movement needs to work together for me to move around. If I happen to fins myself on both hands and knees I topple over whenever I try to make my hands flail out. I also can't figure out how to kick off of the floor with my feet without sending me back to the ground. I'll keep experimenting, as this has to be the position that will end up working the best, but it makes me angry and sad when I can't move the way I want to.

The third position is on the back: It's the one that is the easiest one for moving, but it's movement that doesn't really get me anywhere. I've been rolling from back to front for a couple of months now, so I can flip over if I am bored in any one position. But now I've been able to flip over and over and over so that I can move from one place to another. The problem is that it takes a lot of energy, so I get tired quickly, and I can't control the flips all that well. I end up in a different place, but it's not necessarily a place I wanted to be. Usually it's no closer to the toy I want to get. Or, sometimes, I end up lying on the very toy that I wanted. That's not much fun. Dad's friend Deane was here a week ago and he was telling me about he son, Robbie, who can control his rolling such that he can cross a room just by rolling. I tried it after he told me about it, but after about three flips I was pooped. It's not worth the effort.

There are two other things that I've been trying to do: Sitting from being on my back, and standing from a sitting position. Neither of these have worked for me yet. I can get from a semi-reclined position (like when I'm having my bottle in someone's lap) to a sitting position with no problem. It's easy to bend my back and sit from a reclined position. The problem with sitting from lying on the floor is that I haven't yet figured out what muscles do what. Should I push with my shoulders or should I push with my waist to get to the point where I can sit up? I've been focusing on the waist for the past week or two. When I am lying on my back and want to sit and see someone I start to thrust with my waist, bracing myself with both my feet and my shoulders. I get a little movement, but I can't get near sitting. It's as if the pelvic thrusts aren't really helping that much. Except that they make the person who's standing over me laugh a little.

Getting from a sitting position to a standing position is more promising. When I'm next to the coffee table I can reach up from my sitting position and grab the top of the table. I then try to pull up with my arms. I can get a little bit of lift from the pulling, but I also come very close to hitting my head when I do this. I think that the idea of pulling up with my hands to a standing position is the right one, I just need to get the angle right so I don't hurt myself or slam into the table as I'm pulling. It would also help if my arms were a little stronger. I sometimes try to pull up when I'm sitting on my changing table. I grab the rail at the end of the table and brace against it with my feet. Then I pull. I can get a lot more lift on the table - almost to a squatting position. But once I'm there I get a little distracted by the things that are on the other side of the rail. I try to touch the ribbon on the basket on the other side of the rail and end up falling back down to a sitting position. Sometimes I can bite the rail or get my shoulders over it and that will brace me so that I can get the ribbon or basket. Usually, when that happens, Mom or Dad pull me back over the rail so I won't fall. It's nice that they're looking out for my safety, I suppose, but I really want to get the things out of my reach. I want to move!

2003-02-01T20:33:00.000-05:00

Mom and Dad and Patty keep giving me new things to put in my mouth. And I like it!

Patty started the trend by giving me toast a few weeks ago. Toast is a fun treat. It's about as long as one of my blocks and about as thick as a book. Except instead of a few big thick pages (as most books have), the toast is just one solid chunk. It's big enough to put in my hand but just the right size to put in my mouth. When it goes into my mouth it stays hard for a while but then it goes all soft and goopy. When that happens I can bite into it with my two front teeth and take a chunk into my mouth. I chew and chew and chew with my teeth and gums and tongue until it's good enough to swallow down. Sometimes it gets stuck in my mouth. When that happens I get a little scared because I can't breathe for a minute, but it's happened enough that I've figured out that I can cough and it gets unstuck. On those times when even a cough doesn't work, Mom or Dad or Patty slap me on the back to help dislodge the toast from my throat. It's always come out so far, so I think I'm OK.

Recently, in the morning, Mom has been giving me jars of fruit to go with my cereal. At first I didn't know what to make of the fruits. They tasted very sweet (almost sickeningly so) and were a real shock after the familiar taste of formula and cereal. I didn't like them too much. But over time I've grown to like fruits more and more. In fact, when I'm sick of the taste of cereal, sometimes Mom or Dad mix some fruit into the remaining cereal that I haven't eaten and I get a whole new treat! The cereal taste and the fruit taste really compliment each other. It doesn't matter if the fruit is peaches, applesauce, pears, apricots, what have you. Cereal and fruit go really well together. I like the new taste a lot.

A couple of mornings ago Mom was eating some grown up food and she decided to mash some up and give it to me. She said it was a banana. At first I thought she was trying to fool me, as I've seen bananas before and they don't come in a yellow skin that you can peel back. They come in a jar just like peaches and beans and carrots. I also knew that I don't really like bananas all that much. But she insisted that I try the grown up banana for her. I humored her and took a taste. It was good! It was like someone took bananas and made them more banana-y. And by doing so they made them better. I told Mom that if I could get more of the bananas from the yellow skin and less of the bananas from the jar I'd really go for bananas at breakfast in the future.

A few nights ago Dad gave me something that was like a small, round, orange cylinder. He said it was a carrot. I laughed at him. I've been eating carrots for months and I know that carrots come in a jar. Sometimes the jar is little and sometimes the jar is big, but I know that a carrot is a paste you can put in a little spoon. A carrot is not a hard cylinder a couple of inches long. He told me to try it. I put it in my mouth and sucked on it. There was something vaguely carrot-y about the taste. I gnawed at it with my teeth. The chunks that came off the carrot tasted similar to some of the carrots I've had from the jar. But it wasn't a very good similarity. I liked Dad's carrot enough to have another if he or Mom ever gives me one again. It makes a great noise when I whap it against my tray like a drumstick. But I don't know why anyone would ever want to eat this hard cylinder carrot when you could have the real deal that tastes great and goes down the throat so much more easily.

There are a whole host of other new tastes that Mom and Dad have been giving me of late. I don't much like the spinach, but at least it's better than peas. I kind of like the turkey and squash, but I think that the turkey taste takes away from the squash taste. There are a few other mixes that Mom and Dad have given me, but I think overall none of them compare to the green beans that I get for dinner every night. Those are the best! I could eat those every night forever and be a satisfied person.

New tastes are good and the new foods are fun, but I think that I like the basics are best. Give me a jar of straight carrots or butternut squash or beans and I'll be happy all day long. Or maybe I'll take a banana in the yellow skin. Those are amazing.

2003-01-30T22:31:00.000-05:00

There's something I should've written about long ago, but managed to forget about when I sat down to write my diary. It's high time I devoted an entire entry to the little items that I find fascinating, compelling, and utterly irresistible. They are everywhere if you know where to look, but virtually invisible to most people (like Mom and Dad). I am talking, of course, about one thing.

Tags.

For months now the most important feature on any of my toys have been the tags. They are tiny little strips of paper that are attached to almost all of my toys, virtually every seat that I have, and on most pillows, slippers, hats, and a whole lot of other things that are lying around the house that I can play with. The little strips of paper don't fold or wrinkle when I grab them. The always spring back to their original rectangular shape and sit there wiggling on the underside of whatever it is I'm playing with at the time.

I love playing with tags. For an example of how much I love tags I can take the example of my pink stuffed puppy. My stuffed puppy has a tag. I like playing with it and will sometimes take it by its foot or nose and stick it in my mouth. When I'm playing with a toy that I can put in my mouth I usually suck on it for a couple of minutes and then throw it aside to look for the next toy to play with. But when the tag side of my stuffed puppy is facing me I don't put the puppy in my mouth. Instead I reach for the tag - brushing it with the back of my hand to see if I can push it and if it then bounces back as soon as my hand is gone. It always bounces back. I then reach out a little tentatively to try to delicately take the tag. I have to be careful because sometimes the tag will flutter in a breeze and it'll get away from me. I take the tag between my thumb and my forefinger and tug. It pulls towards me but then the paper slips through my fingers and back into its original position - fluttering at the end of the puppy. I could look at the tag, finger it, and try to test my dexterity by taking it for minutes on end. Putting things in my mouth is fun, but It's so much more interesting to play with the tag.

I find tags all over the place. I even find tags when I can't see them. For instance, when Mom and Dad put together the new excer-saucer that Nana and Papa gave me I thought to myself, "Yay a new excer-saucer to play in!" Little did I know how interesting it really would be. When Mom first put me into the new excer-saucer I felt a little bump next to my leg. It was as if something was pushing the fabric next to my leg in a little bit. I was curious about this. I reached down and felt around the area next to my leg where I felt the bumpiness. It was raised up as if there was something behind the fabric. So I reached my hand through the leg hole and felt around underneath the fabric. Imagine my surprise when I found not one, but three huge tags that I could finger and play with. Now my favorite game when I'm playing in my excer-saucer at home is to rustle the tags. It's great.

Mom and Dad have told me that when I reach into my leg it looks like I'm playing with myself. "I am," I explained to them, "I'm always playing with myself in the excer-saucer. There's no one else to play with since you guys are often doing other things while I'm here."

They kind of laughed at that. "No, " said Mom, "it looks like you're playing with your stuff, peanut."

"I am playing with my stuff, Mom," I said as both Mom and Dad burst into laughter again. "Why are you laughing," I asked, "the excer-saucer is mine. It's my stuff I'm playing with."

They just kept laughing. I don't know why. I was just playing with my tags. Just like I always have ever since I found the first tag a few months ago. I like touching my tags. It makes me feel good. And they just laugh about it. Sometimes grown-ups are weird that way.

2003-01-28T23:58:00.000-05:00

Auntie First and Auntie Jill are here!

They really got here a couple of nights ago, but this is the first time that I've gotten a chance with Mom or Dad to sit down on the Internet and write about it. They came into town on Sunday night after I went to bed. I wouldn't have even known that they were here if it hadn't been for all the noise that they and Mom and Dad were making in the hallway outside my room. I heard them all yapping and talking really loudly and I needed to know what was going on. So I cried a little bit to get picked up out of my crib. If company is here it's only right that I greet them. Mom and Dad didn't hear my cries, so I cried louder. They still didn't hear me but I could still hear them so I cried even more and finally Mom got me out of my crib. I was still tired, though, and when Mom came in I couldn't hear the voices any more so I kind of forgot about why I was crying and just kept crying. That happens sometimes - I cry so hard that I forget why I was crying in the first place.

Mom sat with me and rocked and sang to me for about a half an hour until I fell back asleep. I had dreams about people being in the house. Dad told me, when I described to him the pictures in my head, that they are called dreams. Funny how he waited until after he had edited and posted my diary entry where I talked about the pictures in my head to tell me about dreams. Anyway, when I dreamt about the people in the house I didn't know that they were Auntie First and Auntie Jill, so I thought that Patty and Kim were here in my dreams. It was funny seeing them both together with dream-Dad in the house too. I've never seen all of them together before. I don't know where Mom was in my dream - maybe she was working or out shopping.

The next morning I woke up and started talking to the baby in the mirror in my bed - telling her stories about my dreams and wondering what the day would be like. I know that the baby in the mirror is me, but it's still nice to pretend to have a friend in bed with me that I can talk to in the morning. Most mornings when I wake up I get to have a good 20 minute conversation with the baby in the mirror before Mom comes to get me. Sometimes I fall back asleep, but the baby in the mirror doesn't mind. After all, she is me so she's sleeping too! Auntie First and Auntie Jill told me when I finally saw them later that night that they could hear me talking to the baby in the mirror and that I had a very extensive vocabulary. That's nice. When most adults listen to me all they hear is "ba-ba-ba" or "ba-boo-mamoo". Most adults don't listen to me like Mom or Dad or Patty do to hear what I'm actually saying. It's wonderful that Auntie Jill and Auntie First are one of the good grown-ups - the ones who care enough to listen.

I played with Auntie First and Auntie Jill last night for a little while. Mom tried to put me down for a nap when we got home, but Auntie First and Auntie Jill were here and Mom is always telling me that we have to be on our best behavior and be up with our guests. I don't understand why she tells me that one day and then tries to put me down for a nap the next when company is over. I was able to cry hard enough and long enough to remind her that I was supposed to be with company. She came to get me and I was happy. I won again. That night, Auntie First gave me my bottle and then I played on the floor with my cups while everyone was watching the TV. I'm not sure what they were watching - it wasn't the quick-cut of sports so I didn't bother watching.

The same basic thing happened tonight, except this time Auntie Jill and Auntie First weren't here when I got home so I was fine taking a long nap in the evening. Auntie Jill and Dad woke me up from a nap before I went downstairs to play with everyone. When Auntie Jill woke me up by rubbing and patting my back I looked up at her and gave the biggest smile I have. Mom says, "Always be nice to company". I didn't have to try to hard at being nice - it was fun seeing her there. The problem is that they didn't take me out of the crib fast enough so I started crying in Dad's arms. Dad isn't a stranger and isn't company, so it's OK to break down and cry around him. I started smiling again when I saw Auntie Jill from Dad's arms - but when they put me on the changing table and patted my hurting bottom I went from smiling to crying pretty quick. Once the diaper was changed and the hurts on my bottom were not being rubbed by a silly Dad who was trying to be funny I was OK.

I hope that Auntie First and Auntie Jill can stay for a long time. They are in the room next to me that Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert sometimes stay in. I always like it when someone is in that room. It makes me feel good that we have a full house and there's more people here than just me and Mom and Dad and the baby in the mirror. I wonder if we could always have someone staying with us. I'll need to ask Mom in the morning. I can't ask Dad because he'd just make up some silly answer that's supposed to be funny. But Mom will be good to ask. She always tells me the truth.

2003-01-25T11:39:00.000-05:00

I haven't written in my diary in a little while. At first that was because of the stupid hurty tickle that was keeping me up at night. That went away a few days ago, though, and I'm feeling much better now. For the most part I am not waking up in the middle of the night scared of what the tickle will do to me. I should've written on Thursday morning but couldn't think of anything good to say. On Friday I had something good to talk about, but I fell asleep before I could tell Dad and Mom what they should write for me in the diary. Now I'm feeling rested and relaxed on this Saturday and I can tell all about the neat things I found on Thursday evening and Friday night.

Oranges. Yummy oranges.

Thursday Mom and I went to a party at her work. There were a lot of people that I knew, so I felt very comfortable with everyone at the party. It was the kind of party where everyone had a little plate that they put small chunks of food onto and walked around talking to people while eating their food. Mom put some of the chunks onto her plate and started eating. I looked at Mom. I looked at the plate. I reached for the plate. I wanted to eat some of the food that Mom was eating too. Mom told me that I couldn't have any. But I wanted some. I was really sad.

Mom looked on her plate and saw something I could have. It was one of the few things on her plate that wasn't a chunk or a stick. It was a slice. It was orange. Not surprisingly, Mom called it "a slice of orange". She took a slice off of her plate and let me play with it. Of course, the first thing I needed to do with this new toy/food was put it in my mouth. I put most everything in my mouth, if I can. I grabbed the slice of orange by the wide flat side and started to suck on it. It tasted a tart - more tart than any of the other things that I've eaten before. I wasn't sure what to make of it. I didn't think that Mom liked things that tart. I took the slice of orange out of my mouth and looked at it again. Most of the slice was really orange, and there was a whitish strip around the edge where I was sucking. Maybe, since they call this thing an "orange" and not "slice of white" I was supposed to eat the orange part. I slowly turned the slice around in my hand and then stuck the squishy orange side into my mouth.

Wow!!

There was an explosion of taste that filled my mouth. I could suck on the slice of orange and get a thin sort of liquid to come out. It was sweet, with only a hint of the tartness that I had tasted before. It was excellent! I started to gnaw on the orange to get more of the liquid to come out when a small piece of the slice came off in my mouth. I chewed with my gums and my two front teeth for a couple of minutes and got a lot more flavor out of the piece. Then I swallowed it down. Filling! Oh, how I loved this orange thing!

I must have had at least three orange slices that night. I would suck on them first, then gnaw and chew and finally I was just left with the little white piece on the end of the orange. That piece didn't taste nearly as good as the rest of the orange so I just left it on Mom's plate while I grabbed for another slice. So yummy! I have to come to more parties like this.

The next night Mom and Dad didn't make dinner, but got it from some white boxes that Dad brought from outside. Inside those boxes, in addition to their dinners, were orange slices! I was in heaven. Oranges two nights in a row! Someone really must like me. Her name is Mom. Who else would like me enough to let me eat oranges night after night?

Tonight, after my dinner, I'm going to ask for oranges again. Maybe Mom has them stored somewhere. Now that I know that you don't have to get them at a party and can get them any old time I'm going to start asking for them more and more often. Oranges! Oranges! Oranges!

2003-01-21T22:47:00.000-05:00

I didn't keep my promise to Dad and Mom. But it's not my fault. It hurt.

I ended up waking up on Sunday in the middle of the night. The tickle came back and hurt me all over. It made me feel warm and my head felt like it does sometimes when Dad puts me in his chair and spins me around. That can sometimes be fun since I like the spinning when it happens. But having that feeling while lying in bed is not a nice thing at all. In fact, it's enough to make a person wail in fear. I also felt the tickle in my throat. That's also where all the snot that keeps running out of my nose lives. I thought maybe the tickle would get caught in my snot and run out of my body through my runny nose, but it didn't happen. Instead it stayed in my throat and made me cry some more.

The first time on Sunday that the tickle woke me up I cried for Mom and Dad but no one came. I cried louder and no one came. I screamed for someone to help me fight the tickle but no one came. Maybe they were asleep. Eventually the tickle let me be and I was able to go back to sleep, but it was scary that no one was there to be with me while the tickle was having its way inside of me. Later on in the night I was having a nice dream about running around with Ryan and Rachel when the tickle started running along side of me. I screamed, "GO AWAY TICKLE!!!" but the tickle laughed and jumped into my mouth and wriggled into my tummy. I screamed some more. Mom came into the room and seemed really worried about me for a while. She rocked me and walked around in my room with me and made soothing noises. It was enough to make me want to go back to sleep. But, every time I drifted off, the tickle grabbed me and shook my insides and woke me up. I cried more and kicked my legs. Mom and I were together for a long time that night. But eventually Mom was able to help soothe me back to sleep. Thank goodness for Mom.

Monday was what Mom and Dad called a "long weekend" so they were home with me all day. I was still wiped out from fighting the tickle, so I wasn't really myself at all during the day. I didn't want to cry so much, but I was tired even after the naps I took during the day. I was hungry even though the thought of food made me push away the bottle. I wanted to play, but not with any of the old toys. The papers on the table looked like they would be fun to play with, but Dad always pushed them away. In the end I needed to be content with the tags that are under my seat in my new excer-saucer. I reached down next to one of my legs and poked my hand through the hole and fingered the tags just to keep myself occupied. Sometimes I whined a little too - just to show Mom and Dad that I wasn't very happy.

I had thought that I would get a good nights sleep that night - the tickle was gone and wasn't coming back - but Dad came in a couple of hours after I went to sleep and woke me up. He wanted me to meet a new friend. His name is Mayes and he is about 4 months younger than me. I could feel the excitement build in me when I sat on the floor next to him and his Mom. There were so many things I could teach him!

The first thing I showed him was how to share. Patty teaches sharing to Rachel and Ryan and me every day. Usually it's Ryan that's getting the lesson, but I've been paying attention too. So I picked up my Pooh-bear key chain and showed it to Mayes. Then I dropped it in his lap so he could play with it. He didn't seem all that interested in the toy at first, but then he picked it up and played with it. He smiled at me too! Mom tried sharing with Mayes and gave him one of my cups. I looked at her and scowled. "That's my cup," I thought. So I picked it up off his lap and put it in my mouth. "My cup," I hummed to myself. But Mayes looked sad without a cup so I decided that I would share again. I put the cup right in his lap where he could pick it up and play with it. He looked a little happier but still didn't pick up the cup. "Well, " I thought, "if he's not going to play with it I will." So I took the cup back and played with it some more. He hasn't learned yet that part of sharing is taking someone else's gift when they offer it to you. But I've learned all about sharing and giving. It's fun!

While I was playing with Mayes I didn't even think about the tickle. I played the head patting game with him that I sometimes play with Dad. Mayes head is softer than Dad's. Mom kept making sure I didn't accidentally poke Mayes in the eyes, but I wouldn't have done that. I was being careful. When I patted Mayes on the head I got a kick at how his head is all bald like Dad's but it feels so different. I giggled and laughed at the thought of Mayes' head on Dad's body. What a funny sight that would be! I played for a long time until it was time for me to go back up to bed and for Mayes to go home. I was certainly tired after the playing and fell asleep pretty quickly. But then the tickle came back. With a vengeance.

This time the tickle was in my head - making me stuffier than normal and a little gaspy too. Mom tried to comfort me again but nothing worked. The tickle was winning and making me feel worse. It was careening through my body, bouncing from my head to my throat to my stomach and back again. It was quite painful. After rocking me and holding me and trying to make me feel better Mom finally had to give up and put me back into my crib even though I was still crying. That was a first. It was very surprising. It made me cry even more. When I cried louder Mom put my fish on next to my head and I was distracted by the soothing sound of waves and the entrancing twirling fish that circled around and around. What a joy! As I followed the fish and listened to the waves I forgot that the tickle was still careening up and down my body. I relaxed and felt the tension of crying ooze into the mattress. Sweet sleep came at last!

Today I felt a little better. Mom is going to try the "baby sick medicine" that isn't the awful ear infection medicine. It's bad but not that bad. I can choke it down if I need to. She promises that I'll feel better after I eat the medicine and I trust her that this is true. So I'm wrapping up this entry now and going to take my medicine and go to sleep. I sure hope that the tickle doesn't come to me again tonight. I don't think I can handle 4 nights of tickle in a row.

2003-01-19T19:38:00.000-05:00

Mom and Dad are making me write about how I feel in this diary entry so that they can get a better idea of what's wrong with me. The problem is, that I don't know what's wrong.

It all started last night. I went to sleep at my normal time after having a normal day with Mom and Dad. It was a typical lazy Saturday where we didn't do all that much. I played and took a couple of naps and had a whole lot of beans in my evening meal. I suppose that maybe that's where I started feeling a little off - with the beans. Normally, Mom and Dad only give me a little jar of beans at night. We do the big jar of something orange or a little orange jar and a little jar of fruits during the middle of the day. But last night, after Dad gave me a little jar of beans, I asked for a second helping of those great green veggies. He said "sure" and I got a second heaping helping of my favorite green veggie. Normally, after a jar of green things in the evening, I am able (even eager) to drink at least a small bottle of formula. Last night, after the beans though, I didn't feel at all like having a bottle. My stomach was feeling a little wobbly. And I had a tickle. But I'm not sure where the tickle was. It was just a tickle. It was annoying.

I was able to finish most of the bottle just before I went to sleep, but I was still feeling a little off. My stomach was still a little off and the tickle was still there. Even so, I was able to get to sleep thanks in part to my trusty pacifiers. I have one that I put in my mouth so I can suck on it and another that I can play with while I'm lying in bed waiting for sleep to come. If I didn't have two I don't know what I'd do. Anyway, I was feeling fine enough to go to sleep and had a fitful night full of strange pictures in my head that really disturbed me quite a bit. They were about tickles that roamed around my body and got more and more intense as they moved to each new place. In the middle of the night I got so upset with the pictures of the tickles that I woke up screaming for someone to pick me up and make the tickle go away. Dad came in and gave me both of my pacifiers, but the tickle was still there. And this time it wasn't in the pictures, it was in my mouth!

I screamed and cried and Mom came in and picked me up. That's a really rare thing - Mom picking me up in the night. The only other time she's done that at all recently was at Auntie First's house when I was fighting the last tickle. That time the tickle was in my ear. That was nasty! I was crying partially because the tickle kept going all over - now it was in my stomach - and I didn't want it to go back into my ear. Mom and Dad knew that the tickle was in my stomach and figured that maybe some formula would chase the tickle away. So I got a extra little bottle to get rid of the tickle. Except the tickle didn't go away, and now that I'd had some formula I realized that I was hungry. I'd forgotten that I sometimes get hungry in the middle of the night. Usually I'm asleep when it happens and the hungry pictures that occasionally appear aren't compelling enough to get me to wake up. But now that I was awake - give me more! Eventually I got a whole 2 other little bottles of food into me before the tickle went away and the pictures of the tickle receded enough for me to fall back asleep.

Mom and Dad want to make sure that nothing like that happens again tonight. It's just before bedtime and they're making me write about the tickle in order to know where it is and how to get rid of it. Today the tickle kept coming back, which made me very unhappy sometimes. Once the tickle was back in my mouth. There might be something growing there again. Then, later on, the tickle was in my stomach again. The tickle sat in my head a few times during the day - once hiding behind my eyes and once getting very close to my ears. But it doesn't stay still. I wish it did so I could tell Mom and Dad where it was and how to get rid of it. I suppose that the tickle could just be in my imagination - maybe I'm making the tickle up because I'm bored and don't want to eat or sleep. That's what Dad suggested to Mom. But Mom thinks that the tickle is really there. I agree with Mom. It's there. It just moves a lot.

I'm really tired now. Mom has rocked me and sung to me and played my music for me. When Dad finishes editing this note and reads it back to me I can slip into bed and fall asleep. The tickle was there a few minutes ago, but it's gone now. I promised both of my parents that I'll try to stay asleep for the whole night tonight. And I will, too. As long as the pictures of the tickle don't start torturing me again and make me wake up. And as long as the tickle really doesn't go into my ears. It's scary when that happens.

2003-01-17T08:58:00.000-05:00

There needs to be some kind of rule that it can't be so cold anymore.

I thought that winter was going to be over almost a month ago. It's not. There is still a lot of white stuff all over the ground and the air makes my nose hurt. It's so cold. I can't believe that it can be cold for so long. Where are the fun warm breezes? Where's the sun in the evening? It's getting so I almost don't remember what it was like to be outside without my fleece on. Was there really a time when Dad and Mom brought me outside to sit on the porch and all I wore was a onesy? Did that really happen?

I really don't like my fleece at all. It's constricting, covers my hands a lot of the time, and it's getting to be too small. But it's better than the snowsuit, which is so bulky that I can barely move my arms or legs at all. I just hope that the winter gets over soon so that I don't need to wear the fleece as often. These days I've grown resigned to putting it on. I used to wail and cry and flap my arms when Mom or Dad or Patty put it on me. Now I mostly sit there looking unhappy and whine a bit when the fleece gets zipped or buttoned. I've learned that the crying doesn't do much good, so I conserve my energy and let these stupid adults do what they will with me and the fleece.

There are kids next door that I can sometimes see playing in the snow when Mom or Dad and I are looking out the window. They look like they are having fun. But I don't know how. It's so cold! How can they play in the snow when it freezes your hand? Dad let me touch the snow one day when he and I were getting the mail. It was cold! Why would someone voluntarily play in that? All I can think of is that they are older than me and older kids are kind of crazy. Maybe playing in the cold goes along with running around like a loon or spinning in place. It could be fun, but it looks stupid when someone else does it.

I can't wait for the warm again. When does this season end?

2003-01-15T12:18:00.000-05:00

One of the reasons that I go to Patty's house or visit with Christine and Kim is because Mom and Dad say that I can't hang out with them at work all day. I think that yesterday proved otherwise. Again.

Mom dropped me off at Patty's house like always in the morning and I had a great time there. It was fun and play time, followed by a nap time. When I woke up from my nap I saw that Mom was there early. Way early. Like a couple of hours earlier than she usually picks me up. That was fine, though, because I always like being with Mom. Together we went to Boston and we went to a meeting with some of Mom's friends that are in this club together. It's a nice club, and one that I've gone to before. Mom told me to be on my best stranger behavior before we went into the club meeting. I promised her that I would be good and together we went into the meeting.

Mom and her friends talked about all sorts of boring stuff. They talked about work. I played on the floor with my cups. They talked about money. I played with my squeezy blocks and put them into my mouth. They talked about events that their club could put together. I sat on the floor and bounced my arms up and down going "ya ya ya ya", which is almost as good as bouncing in the excer-saucer or in the bouncy seat. Sometimes they talked about kids, and when the conversation inevitably came to a discussion of me I turned to the group and smiled pretty. I was not just good. I was good.

Everyone in the club said I was a great baby. We were there for almost three hours before I got fussy at all. And that was just because I was telling Mom that I was getting hungry. Mom took a little break from the club and sat on the floor with me to feed me green beans and a bottle. I like being on the floor when I'm eating my beans because I can sometimes lean down and try to bite an object in front of me. The object when I was eating beans last night was Mom's leg. Mmmmm... succulent!

Once my meal was done and I had been changed, Mom and her friends started talking about more boring stuff. I sat and played with my stuff on the floor. When I needed a little attention I told Mom to look at me (quietly, so no one would be alarmed) and she gave me a nice piece of toast like the ones that Patty sometimes gives me. Mom calls the toast "zwiebeck" but Patty calls it "toast", so I'm calling it "toast" too. It's shorter and I haven't figured out how to pronounce "zwiebeck" yet.

Throughout the evening everyone there called me a good girl and an angel and a wonderful baby. I took it all in and smiled a lot. I was being good. I was on the best stranger behavior that I've ever been on. I love my Mom and like spending time with her. I love Patty too, but if I had to make a choice I'd rather spend time with Mom. So maybe, if she sees that I'm a really good girl and can play nice and stay out of the way, she'll be able to take me to work with her. Then I could help her with meetings (because everyone smiles when they see me in a meeting) and phone calls (because she can have an excuse to get off the phone with stupid people if I need to be fed) and email (I can bang on the keyboard really good, although I like to try to eat it now too). I'm a good girl. Let me help, Mom!

2003-01-12T14:43:00.000-05:00

I don't get why people don't let me do what I want to do. After all, I just want to do what other people do.

I've written before that I want to be able to run around and play like Ryan and Rachel do at Patty's. I can't yet, but that doesn't mean I can't try. Everyone says I should start doing something called "crawling" if I want to start being like the other kids, but I really don't get what that could be. I guess it has something to do with being on your hands and knees and then rocking back and forth. Sounds dumb to me. But I can still get someplace by leaning. Leaning is what I do to get more toys, or to start climbing on Dad or Mom when they are lying on the floor with me. I put down my one hand and sort-of-reach-sort-of-roll to what I want to get. Usually I can get the object I'm looking for, even if it's kind of far away. Sometimes I don't and I end up on my side or my belly looking at the floor with one leg tucked at a decidedly odd angle. It's a start, though.

Even if I can't go running around, I can still do what Ryan and Rachel do when they do it. That's really all I ask. When they play, I want to play. I don't want to go to bed. When they eat I want to eat, and I'll cry until I can. For instance a couple of days ago Patty was giving Ryan and Rachel their meals in their chairs. I had already had a bottle, but I wanted to eat too. "They are eating", I thought, "I should be as well". So I cried and whined a little bit until Patty broke down and gave me some toast. That was a great thing to have! Rachel would pick up her food and eat it and I could too. Ryan chews his food and I could too. And I was doing it at the same time they were. I might be younger than them, but I still belong!

At home I want to do what Mom and Dad do. They are always picking up the phone and talking into it, or picking up the remote controls and pressing buttons. I want to do it too! When the phone is one the table or on the ground I'll reach for it so I can answer when it rings. Until it rings I'll just put it in my mouth, but I'm ready when the ringing happens. Mom and Dad don't seem to like me having the phone or the remote - especially when I put it into my mouth. They say "No, no" and give me a stuffed toy instead. Thing is, they don't play with stuffed toys at all. Why would I want to play with a stuffed toy when clearly the more interesting things to play with are the things that Mom and Dad use all the time?

Back in Maryland Mom was playing the piano that is at Grandma Tigger's house and I told her I wanted to play too. So Mom put me up on the piano bench and I started playing my style of music - I call it "Bang". It was lovely. I was so good that Cousin Brendan sat on the stool with me and played a Bang duet. It was spectacular. He's a very good player of Bang music. Everyone said so. Playing the piano was made better by the fact that I was doing what Mom was doing. And to top it all off there was the fact that Cousin Brendan - who is much older than me - was right there with me banging away. That felt great!

There are too many other instances of me wanting to do what I see other people doing to name them all. I think sometimes Mom and Dad get confused when I start whining at them for what seems like no reason. There is a reason. There is always a reason. It's not just because I'm hungry or tired or my diaper needs changing or I'm bored. Sometimes it's because I see something I want to do and I really want to do it. Let me on the keyboard. Give me the tiles with the letters on it. Put the folded paper in front of me so I can read it too. I just want to do what you're doing, Mom and Dad. I want to be with the "in" group. I want to be like you.

2003-01-09T09:18:00.000-05:00

The holidays are over and my cold is going away, so everything is going back to normal. Mom takes me to Patty's every day but Wednesday and I get to play with Ryan and Rachel there. Sometimes they run around me and ignore me. Other times they give me things to play with. Sometimes they are just plain awful to be around - once Ryan didn't get what he wanted so he fell on the floor and kicked and screamed. Patty still didn't give him what he wanted, so I guess that doesn't work too well.

Mornings and nights are the time I get to spend with Mom and Dad. Since the holidays have been over, Mom has been waking up with me and feeding me my cereal and my bottle. It used to be Dad that gave me my bottle, but Mom took over for him. I don't really know why, since he is often just getting out of bed when Mom and I leave in the morning. At night I get my green vegetable and my bottle once we get home from Patty's house. Sometimes Dad and Mom play with me on the floor. Other times I sit in my swing or my excer-saucer in the kitchen while Dad and Mom eat the meal that Dad cooked for them. That's usually a good time as long as they don't ignore me for too long. When that happens I throw a toy to the floor and then peek over the edge of the excer-saucer or swing to see where it is. Most of the time Mom or Dad pick up the toy and give it back to me. I keep it for a while and then throw it down again if I get bored or don't feel loved enough.

Yesterday was the first break in the new routine that I've had so far. Rather than going to Kim & Christine's on Wednesday, I stayed home with Dad. It was a little strange at first - I missed my normal nap that I take in the car while going to Mom's work or to Patty's. Thankfully, Dad realized that I wanted a nap and put me back into my crib. I couldn't believe that I was going into the crib rather than the car seat, so I snuggled down and enjoyed it while I could. Turns out that I could sleep all day if I had wanted to. So I almost did. I woke up from my nap after almost 4 whole hours and felt happy, bright-eyed, and ready to take on the rest of the day. At lunch, Dad gave me 2 whole jars of baby food at once and then gave me a bottle. Wow, that was a lot of food! Dad and I played on the floor for a while and then he tried to put me down for another nap.

"Too soon, Dad. I'm not tired," I cried from my crib. He realized I was right and came to get me. But about 10 minutes later I realized I was ready for a nap and told him to take me back to my crib.

I slept for maybe an hour or two and then got up, ready for more action. In the late afternoon the action was playing in the excer-saucer while Dad played on his computer. He says that he was working, but I know better. He was just banging the keyboard like I do when I'm playing on the computer. Once he was done we went back downstairs and played some more and had more food and waited for Mom to come home. She was late, so I was getting really hungry and cranky when she walked in. Dad wanted us all to eat together, so he had made me wait for my food. But that was really the only thing that Dad did wrong in the entire day, so I'm feeling generous and will cut him some slack.

The days drift by and things remain mostly the same. Even the special surprises, like Dad taking care of me, all seem normal and calm. It's so much better now than it was during the holidays. There's no travel. There's no hanging out in new spaces. And, best of all, there's no more cold that makes me cough and that tickles my ear!

2003-01-06T23:24:00.000-05:00

The medicine, for all of its bad taste, seems to be working. The tickling in my ear is going away. And my cough is not quite as bad either - it doesn't hurt to cough any more and I'm not coughing nearly as much during the day. One side effect of the medicine (other than the lingering nasty taste in my mouth) is that my bottom is a sore in the same way that my ear was. Sometimes I feel an itching, tickling sensation that hurts quite a bit when I think about it but not at all when I'm playing with my toys. I think that maybe the virus that was hanging out in my ear is hanging out in my diaper now. I know I've been pooping so much that if the virus was in me at all it would be out around my diaper by now.

Mom has known about the itchy soreness in my diaper for a little while now, so after bath time and sometimes when my diaper (or as my parents call it, diapee) is getting changed Mom puts some cream or some powder on my bottom. It feels good going on and is slick to touch. Sometimes, when Mom is focused on something else, I kick extra hard on my changing table after she has put the bottom cream on me. If I kick just right it can get on my feet. I figure that having cream on my feet will give me more speed when I finally am able to run around. I hope that day comes soon.

Back when I was littler I would look at the kids who ran around acting like lunatic monkeys and wonder what all the fuss was about. I didn't want to be insane like they were. Now that I'm older, though, I can begin to understand the idea of running around. I've seen Rachel and Ryan do it so much (and it looks like they have so much fun) that I want to try it out to see what it's like. I've got a lot more energy now than I did when I sat in Mom's arms most of the time. I've been trying to climb all over Mom or Dad when I'm with them in their laps. I can bang on my new drum and it makes noises that say "Yay! You're great!" I can bounce and bounce just like Grandma does when I see her in her orange and black suit on the TV. I've got enough energy to walk and run - I just know I do!

Some of Mom and Dad's friends came over to visit on the weekend and they brought their boy, Ben. Ben is older than me just like Ryan and Rachel are older than me. But where I play with Patty's toys when I'm at her house with Ryan and Rachel, Ben played with my toys at my house. At first I was skeptical of anyone else playing with my toys, but then he shared some with me (handing me a block) and I knew it would be OK. He had a lot more fun in the house than I usually do. I learned all the things that I could do if I put my mind (and body) to it. I could run in circles around the stairs instead of being carried by Mom or Dad. I could climb the stairs too! I could eat Mom and Dad food off of a plate instead of playing with my spoon. I could throw a ball and have one of my parents throw it back. And I could play with my toys without just putting them in my mouth. Frankly, I'm not sure why I'd ever want to do that last thing, but Ben opened up a whole new world to me right here in my own house. It was amazing!

2003-01-03T22:02:00.000-05:00

My parents are trying to torture me with medicine.

The ear infection that I got over the holidays still hurts some. Dr. Killer told Mom to get some medicine to help with the pain, but I'm really not sure that the cure is better than the disease. That's not true. I am sure. The cure is worse.

The dread medicine comes in a pink bottle. At first, I thought that it was a bottle of the same kind of stuff that my pink clothes are made of. I watched from my swing the first time that Mom opened it up and smelled it.

"Blechh," she said with her back turned to me. I could see her put a tube into the medicine and then she turned around. "Yummy, peanut," she said as she approached with the tube. The tube looked like a really big version of the dropper that Mom uses to give me my vitamins. I hate my vitamins. They taste gross. So I figured that since this medicine stuff was in a tube that was even bigger than the vitamin tube, the taste must be all that much worse than the taste of the vitamins.

Boy was I right.

It's awful, the taste of the medicine. It didn't taste at all like my pink clothes, or anything else I've put in my mouth before. Icky doesn't even begin to describe it. I spit as much of the stuff out of my mouth as I could and cried because I could still taste it on my tongue after the tube was out of my mouth. Mom's first instinct was right - Blechh!

The next night I saw the tube coming at me again, so I did what anyone would do. I turned my head away from it. Mom moved the tube around and tried to get it in my mouth again. I turned my head the other way. She called to Dad and he held my head in place so that I couldn't turn it as the tube came forward. I thought he was on my side! I sure didn't want what was in the tube, so I shut my mouth as hard as I could. If my mouth wasn't open I they couldn't put what was in the tube into me. My lips sealed my mouth shut. Dad reached in and tried to get my mouth open with his finger. I wanted to bite him with my two teeth and opened my mouth to warn him with a cry when Mom zipped the tube into my mouth, pouring the medicine into my throat. I managed to choke some out onto my bib, but I still got some in me. Awful, awful stuff.

This morning Mom tried another approach. The tube was gone. Instead, she showed me a big spoon that had something pink in it. I didn't realize at first that it was the medicine. Every other time we've played with spoons there's always been something good on the other end. Except for peas. I hate peas almost as much as medicine and vitamins. Not even smelling what was in the spoon I swallowed all that it contained in one gulp. I realized my mistake immediately as the medicine oozed down my throat. Tonight Mom tried the same trick again, but this time I checked the spoon first. I saw the pink and refused. Again I turned my head away and tried to keep my mouth shut. This time, even with Dad working against me, I was able to win. The medicine spilled all over my face, dribbled down my chin and onto my bib and the towel that Dad was holding. Score one for me!

Mom wouldn't give up, though. Even though I had won the medicine battle, she came back with a new tactic. She put some medicine in a nipple and gave the nipple to me. I was tired and when I'm tired I love to suck on a pacifier or my bottle's nipple. That habit worked against me. I couldn't fight it. The urge to suck overwhelmed the urge to spew the medicine across the room with the nipple and I had to suck it down. Score one for Mom. I lost.

I was weak. I must figure out how to be strong in the face of the calming nipple. Then I can win he game again and the medicine will be defeated. I know it sounds like I'm being melodramatic, but I'm not. The ugly pink medicine truly is that bad. Yuck!

2002-12-31T22:56:00.000-05:00

It hurts all over. Mom and Dad are trying to help, I know, but it still hurts.

This stupid cold is still here. The last time I had a cold it was going away after almost a week. This time, though, it's just getting worse. This morning I noticed that I'm making noises when I breathe. Usually I can't hear myself breathe unless I've just been tickled a lot by Mom or Dad has been throwing me in the air. Today I could hear the air go in and out of my lungs with each breath I took. It was like there was something getting in the way of the air when it was going into my body. Like the air was catching on something as it passed. This was very disconcerting.

Then there's the cough. Yesterday it seemed like it was getting better. It didn't sound quite as juicy to my ears when I coughed. I just did it a lot. Today the cough was still there but it was deeper in my chest and the juiciness was back. Today it hurt to cough more than it ever has before. Throughout the day I would need to cough three or four times in a row with that big, hacking, uncontrollable cough I was talking about in my last entry. When the cough was over it felt like my chest had been scraped with something rough and ragged and my throat felt all raw. After most coughs it hurt to the point that I made a little noise that both Mom and Dad noticed. So my coughs sounded like this: "Kroughhhh! HORUGHHH! Korugghhhh!!! eeyAAhhahh" When will the cold end?

Mom and Dad took me to a doctor today. At first, when I heard I was going to the doctor I thought about Dr. Meany and his hurty pain sticks. Mom told me that we weren't going to Dr. Meany's, but were going to Dr. Killian instead. I told her I'd try to be good, but I wasn't going to be responsible for what happened if Dr. Killian came at me with pain sticks. The doctor's office was really nice. Mom sat me down on the padded seat and showed me that the paper on the seat made a crinkly noise like some of my books and toys make. I like that noise a lot. Truth be told, I like just about any loud noise that I can make, but that one is very nice. What Mom didn't tell me (that I found out on my own) was that the paper wasn't connected to the padded seat, it was just sitting on top of it. So I could grab the edge of the paper and pull and it would crinkle even more and come up off the ground. This was almost as good as grabbing the tags on my toys! I pulled and pulled on the paper to the point that I would've toppled over if it hadn't been for Mom hanging on to my foot.

Dr. Killian finally came into the office and started to talk to Mom and Dad. They told him about my condition and he told Dad (who was holding me while Mom straightened out the paper on the seat) to put me back down. He did and then he stepped behind the doctor so I couldn't see him. I looked around. I couldn't see Mom either! All I could see was the doctor - AND HE HAD A PAIN STICK IN HIS HAND!!!!

"Mom, Dad! Dr. Killer is coming to get me!" I yelled. Both Mom and Dad peeked around the doctor and told me it was all right, but it wasn't all right. I could feel the pain stick slipping under my shirt. It was cold! But it wasn't sharp this time, and the stick wasn't so much a stick as a disk. And the disk warmed up after a little bit. Still, I was excited and scared and Dr. Killer didn't really help matters he just stood there listening to the cord strapped to the disk under my shirt. I cried and cried. Mom and Dad came around the doctor and tried to calm me down. Mom made soothing noises. Dad made funny faces. I saw the cord attached to the disk and grabbed it a little bit. I stopped crying so much, but it was still a little scary to be around Dr. Killer.

Then the doctor pushed me down to my back and told Dad to hold my arms. "No! No! No! Mom, don't let Dr. Killer hit me with a pain stick! He's gotten to Dad, Mom! Don't let him do it!" I could hear Mom making soothing noises as Dad held me and Dr. Killer got out a new pain stick and stuck it in my ears. He put the stick in the first ear and it didn't hurt. Maybe it wasn't a pain stick that he had. "Owww!!!" I yowled as he put the pain stick in the other ear. That ear has been sensitive for at least a week, what is he doing sticking something big like that in there? Then he got another stick and put it in my mouth. No way I was going to let that thing hurt me! I started crying right away and wouldn't stop until Mom was holding me in her arms again.

Dr. Killer told us that I had a wheezing sickness in my chest that no medicine would help - just time. I wanted to spit at him. I went through all that with the disk and the sticks and everything just to be told that I had to continue to have hurty coughing fits that made me get up a night and woke me up from my naps so I was miserable all day? Stupid Dr. Killer. Then he told us that I also had an ear infection and that I could have medicine to fix that. So the ear that has been a little tender for the last week or so can be fixed, but the coughing and the sounds in my chest can't. Great. Some great doctors Mom and Dad take me to. One makes me hurt when I'm feeling fine, and the other tells me he can't give me anything to fix the real hurt but can help the little annoyances that I've been living with.

I hate being sick. I hate my doctors. I hate the pain, the rawness, and the sniffles. I would hate Mom and Dad, but I know they are trying their best. But I still don't feel good and it hurts.

2002-12-29T22:49:00.000-05:00

I hate colds. Hate. Hate. Hate.

The cold that started a few days ago at Christmas has made my nose stuffy and raw, has made it so I can't breathe at night (making sleeping really difficult) and has now drifted into my chest, leaving me with this awful cough that makes my entire upper body rattle when I cough. I've had coughs before - the kids at day care have been showing me how to get people's attention with a little well placed cough. It goes like this: "kewh, kewh". But my cough now is uncontrollable, loud, and it hurts quite a bit. It goes like this: "Kroughhhh! HORUGHHH! Korugghhhh!!!" I hate this cold.

My last cold just gave me the sniffles and made my nose run, but this cold has made me feel all warm all over and has made my head feel kind of swimmy. Last night I was feeling so bad that I woke up in the middle of the night (again) and couldn't get back to sleep because of the warmth in the back of my head and all around my body combined with the inability to grab a breath without snot and other random nose-juices coming in with the air. Mom tried to soothe me for a long time. She rocked me. She lied on the couch with me. She sang to me. Everything that she tried worked like a charm... but almost as soon as I had relaxed enough to get back to sleep the warmth behind my eyes swooped in on me again and jerked me out of my sleep. I wanted to sleep so bad, but my stupid cold wouldn't let me!

Before Mom and Dad and I left Maryland this morning, Auntie First played a game with me where she stuck a stick under my arm and told me to sit still for a couple of minutes. I tried, but I really wanted to reach for something on the table behind her. Then Mom cam down and held my arms so I would be still. When Auntie First was finished with the game she told me I had a "fever". This, I guess, means that I would feel hot and my head would get kind of swimmy sometimes. I already knew that! But it was nice to have someone else confirm that I wasn't feeling good. Auntie First is a good nurse, so she and Mom gave me some drugs that were supposed to make me feel a little better. Maybe they did help, I'm not sure. But they didn't make the cold go away. Bad cold, bad!

The ride back to my house was much better than the ride down. It went a lot faster because I finally got some of the sleep that had eluded me the night before, although there were a few times that my coughing woke me up. Thankfully, I was able to slide right back into sleep after the coughing fit had subsided. I did have a small meltdown in the car, but that was mostly because I was hungry, not because the horrible fever had come back. The warmth in the back of my head that I felt last night hasn't come back yet and it's already late at night. I hope that when I'm done with this entry and go to bed for real tonight that it won't come back. Mom and Dad have already set up my crib and my CD and everything so that I can snuggle right under my comforter and drift to sleep as soon as I am put in my crib. They even set up the machine that spits wet, funny smelling air into the room so that I won't sniffle as much when I'm sleeping. It helped a little before. I hope it helps a lot this time.

I have to say, after so many days away from my house it was a blessing to see my own room again. It brought a smile to my face as soon as Dad carried me through the doorway. Even though I was coughing. I hate this cold.

2002-12-26T19:55:00.000-05:00

I wish it were Christmas every week! Just like this one.

I wrote about presents before, and how I hosted my very own Christmas party for Nana and Papa and all the cousins and Aunties. On Monday Mom and I went out and bought a super-secret surprise for Dad and had tons of fun in the stores with all of the other crazy people who clogged the aisles. That was where I left off when Mom and Dad told me about more presents on Tuesday morning.

Presents, presents, presents! I got some bead blocks that click together on Tuesday morning. Those are fun to play with. I also got a book with a squeaky duck in it. Mom and Dad got some stuff from Santa Claus (and, I guess, each other) but their presents weren’t nearly as much fun as mine. After I opened my presents I could play with mine right away. Mom and Dad just left theirs sitting next to the tree.

I took a nap in the morning, and it’s a good thing I did, because the rest of the day was tough on me. After I woke up from my nap Mom and Dad and I bundled into the funny new white car that’s been sitting in the garage for the past few days. I didn’t know it, but it’s my new car! It’s a nice car, but my favorite car seat doesn’t go in it. Instead I had to sit in my old car seat that we used way back when I first started driving in the car. Thankfully, though, it’s a lot more comfortable now and the seat tilts back farther now than it did before. I think maybe it was not built for someone who was as small as I was back when I first was driving. Now that I’m bigger, though, it fits just fine.

Or, at least, it fits fine if you sit in it for a couple of hours. We drove for more than that. Much more. I didn’t know that we were going down to see Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert in Baltimore this week. So I was in the car for over 8 hours! The car seat is comfy, but not so comfy that I can take the kind of long nap that I usually need to take during the middle of the day. We drove and drove and drove. I napped a little bit and played with my toys and played with Mom and ate some stuff, but it was still a long, long drive.

We got to Auntie Kristen and Uncle Tim’s house just in time for dinner. That was a fun time with even more presents! Presents in the morning and presents in the evening! The day might have been perfect if it hadn’t been for the long drive in between. I played in Cousin Shannon’s excer-saucer and stayed on my best stranger behavior even though I was with family. I figured that I should be good since we had come all the way from my house in Plainville just to be with them. Grandma Tigger held me a lot and Grandpa Bert put Shannon and me into his lap at the same time and we took some pictures together. Throughout the evening I was sitting next to Shannon or being held really close to her. Little did I know that this would have consequences for me later on.

Every time Shannon and I have gotten together over the past few months she has taught me something that I needed to know. Even though she was younger than I, she had some very insightful views of sleeping and eating and stuff. This time, though, I was able to show her how much I knew about life. I showed her how she could sit up and how she could reach for things and take items that are just out of reach. She looked amazed that I could sit all by myself, since she couldn’t do it yet. I did tell her that I was a few weeks older than she so I wasn’t surprised that I could do stuff that she couldn’t. I tried not to be too smug about it. Shannon did give me a little something, though… her cold.

I hate colds. Hate, hate, hate. I didn’t know that I had gotten Shannon’s cold right away. But I think that maybe that’s part of the reason that I was cranky and couldn’t get to sleep right away when we got to Auntie First’s house. Mom and Dad tried to put me into a pseudo-crib in Auntie First’s spare room but I wasn’t feeling right. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that I had already gotten in the day that was making me over-tired. Maybe it was the excitement of the presents. Maybe it was the strange room. Maybe it was the cold. But I had a really hard time getting to sleep. Then, in the middle of the night, I woke up and needed to have something to eat. That hasn’t happened in a long time. Stupid cold.

Christmas morning itself was white. Snow came started coming down in the morning and didn’t stop for a long time. People say that they think a white Christmas is incredible and desirable, but I don’t see why. I was looking forward to summer time again and I thought that winter was over, but for some reason Baltimore is still has cold and snow. Maybe it’s closer to the North Pole than Boston and Providence are.

Did I mention presents? If Tuesday had a lot of presents, yesterday was positively filled with presents! I got a lot more stuff, including outfits and new toy that I couldn’t figure out right away. That’s OK, though, as I’m sure I’ll have a lot of time to figure it out. I ripped apart wrapping (with mom and Dad’s help) and saw all of the other kids get their presents. It was so much fun! Then Mom decided that it was time for me to go to bed.

“No, I don’t want to go to bed,” I shouted. I kicked and screamed. Mom put me on my belly and I flipped over onto my back so I could see Mom better. “I don’t want to go away from the party!”

I cried for another five minutes while Mom and Dad tried to ignore me out in the party room. But I know how the game is played now, so I kept on crying. Eventually Mom came back and picked me up. I went back to the party and smiled at everyone. “I won,” I said as I rejoined the group.

Today I finally got back on my normal schedule, even though my cold got me up in the middle of the night again. This morning I had cereal and a bottle and took a morning nap after being up for a couple of hours. Then I got up and had beans as well as another bottle. I played with Mom and Dad for a while and went to my afternoon nap. It was just like my normal weekend schedule. I don’t care if it’s not the weekend. With Mom and Dad with me all day it feels like the weekend and that’s good enough for me. If only they would stop trying to get goop out of my nose. I hate people touching my nose. And I hate my cold. But I know just what will make me feel better. Presents!

2002-12-24T08:17:00.000-05:00

I meant to post this note yesterday, but life got in the way again. But more on that in a bit.

On Sunday I hosted my first party! Mom and Dad helped some, but I was the one that everyone wanted to see, and I was the center of attention the entire time. So I was the one who was really giving the party. Auntie Becky, Auntie Sarah, Nana, Papa, and Auntie Sarah's friend Patrick all came over to my house and brought Cousin Jessie, Cousin Catelyn, Cousin Vicky and Cousin Cody with them. That's a lot of people! I woke up from my nap just as everyone arrived, so I was fresh and rested enough to be able to help run the show for almost the entire night.

We all got together for the dinner that Mom made around the kitchen table, which had a nice red tablecloth on it. The tablecloth was a good one... I know because I tested (and tasted) it in the afternoon before everyone arrived. During dinner I got passed around from person to person just like I do when I'm at lunch with Kim or Christine. It was a lot of fun - everyone was happy to hold me for a little bit and then pass me on to the next person. That's not to say that I was passed around the entire time. For the first part of the dinner I sat in my high-chair that allows me to see everyone around the table. I was good and ate my sweet potatoes for dinner, but then I got bored and that's when I got passed around. So I was good. Yes, indeed.

After dinner everyone went into the room with the big tree, which now had a lot of boxes under it! There were piles and piles of boxes... and most of them were for me! I got a present that Cousin Cody brought for me that was wrapped really nice. He showed me that I could rip the paper to get at the box inside. I thought at first he was being bad and ripping something that someone wanted wrapped up, but everyone (including his Mom) told us it was OK. So I grabbed the wrapping with two hands and pulled as hard as I could. It gave a mighty "rriiiiiipp". Yay! Cody helped some more and eventually we got the box out of the paper. Inside was a new toy just for me! I love it!

Next someone else got to open a present, and then it was time for me again. This time Cousin Jessie helped out. Another gift for me! Then, after another person got to go, I got another one! And another! I said this party was for me and by me. This proves it! After a while, though, there were so many presents for me that I got tired of opening them. I needed to be held - first by Mom and then by Nana - just to stay alert and happy. It was getting late, though, and after so many presents and partying I just wanted everyone to leave. Soon enough we finished all the presents and some people did just that. While that was happening I got to go to bed, but everyone who was leaving came by to say goodbye to me, so I know they all had a good time.

Yesterday was busier than I thought it would be. Instead of going to Patty's I visited a new place called "Kinder-Care". At first I was skeptical about the place. There were a lot of cribs along a wall and a lot more kids around than I'm used to. But then I saw all the toys and the mirror and I decided that it wasn't such a bad place after all. I sat at first with a couple of other babies my age and we talked about things as we played with cups and toys. I get along with most people, but I didn't really like one of the babies there at first... I was bending down to pick up one of the toys in front of me and he bent down to pick it up first.

"Hey, " I thought to myself, "that's my toy!" But I didn't say anything. I didn't want to make a scene.

The place was busy and noisy, so I had a hard time getting down for my naps. But finally I was tired enough from the excitement of the night before and the energy that I expended playing that I could take a nap. When I woke up it wasn't long before Mom was there and we went away. I thought we were going home, but we were going into Boston where we picked up a surprise for Dad and then went to dinner with him. Fun stuff! But it was a long day. Almost too long. I finally got to bed again late so I had no time to dictate the diary to Dad.

Mom and Dad are rushing me off of the Internet now. Something about more presents under the tree. More? I thought I already opened all my presents! But I get more? Yay!

2002-12-20T22:03:00.000-05:00

I'm really sleepy tonight, so this will probably be a short entry. I wanted to make sure I wrote about a great party and the return of Outside. Yay!

First, the great party. After a long day at Patty's house Mom took me to a strange place with a lot of toys and cribs and plenty of space. We were there for a little while and it was all so strange. I wonder what it was? Anyway, after going to the strange place we went to Mom's Boss Beth's house where there were a lot of people milling about and eating stuff. The funny thing is that I knew most of the people there! I said "Hi" to the pretty ladies at Mom's work and played with Mom's friend Jess and hung out on the floor with Mom's Boss Beth. Mom's Boss Beth showed me this great toy called a "train" that made noise as it circled the big tree in the room. When the train circled behind the tree I got bored and played with my cups, but when the train came back in front of the tree it made an even bigger noise than it was already making, which got my attention. It was like "Chooo-Choooo!!" Fascinating.

Mom's friend Jess fed me my bottle at the party and I got passed around to a host of different people. I was on my best stranger behavior, so everyone thought I was incredibly good. And cute. But people always say that. During the middle of the party everyone gathered in the room with the tree and yelled out at Mom's Boss Beth, who passed out boxes in mostly red and green and gold paper. Some people, when they opened their boxes, pointed at a present that another person had already unwrapped and the other person had to give the first person their box. It was all very arcane. Maybe someday I'll figure out what was going on with the boxes and the paper. But for now, they all seemed to have fun and I got fed my bottle, so I suppose it all worked out for the best.

The best thing of the day happened after the party, though. For the first time in a long time Mom and Dad didn't put the horrid fleece on me before taking me outside. And it was warm again! Just like it used to be! I can't believe it, but I've lived through my first winter. The snow wasn't as bad as I thought it would be when I heard people talking about it around me. But the cold was awful. Thank goodness it's over and we can go back to the way things should be - no fleece and plenty of warm breezes in the fresh air. Yay!

2002-12-18T21:55:00.000-05:00

Rather than write a diary entry for today I thought I'd have Dad type in a note that I dictated to Kim when she was babysitting me last night. Kim has been over to my house twice now and I like it more and more every time she comes to stay. Maybe soon she can come here on Wednesdays instead of me going to her house.

Anyway, I dictated this note to Kim because I didn't want to forget about my night with her and because I wanted to leave a note for Mom and Dad because I knew I would be asleep when they got home. I tried to get Kim to type it on the Internet, but she couldn't find it on Dad's computer. Maybe he hid it or something. Or maybe he broke it. Except it works now, so I don't know what to think.

Here's what I wrote last night:

Hi Mom and Dad!

I missed you so much tonight, but Kim and I had so much fun!! First I played with my cups on my favorite pink blanket, but then I began to get a bit hungry. So, around 6:30 P, Kim gave me my squash and it was delicious!! Then I ate 4 oz. in my bottle. After I ate, Kim gave me a bath in the tub I got from my RHA friends. I had fun chewing on my ducky. After my bath I played in my excer-saucer for a little while but then I got hungry again.

Around 7:30 Kim read me "Pajama Time" and then she fed me 4 more oz. of my bottle. Kim and I rocked for a few minutes but then I asked her to turn my CD on and put me to bed. I am going to bed around 7:45 PM and I promise to sleep through the night because I bet you guys are tired from your party. I hope your night was a fin as mine was! Goodnight and I will see you in the morning!

Love, Morgan :)

PS. Kim told me to tell you to have a "delicious" night.

2002-12-16T09:24:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke up and played with Dad some before I ate my breakfast. I was standing on top of his chest, holding his fingers for balance, when I asked if we could play with the diary this morning.

“Sure,” he said, and turned on the computer for me.

We loaded the diary and I asked him to read me the last entry so that I could remember what I was doing last time I wrote in it. He started reading and I immediately knew something was wrong.

“Where’s yesterday’s post?” I asked.

“Ummmm…” he answered. He does that when he doesn’t know the answer but doesn’t want anyone to know that he doesn’t. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” He was stalling.

He looked and looked and finally found a copy of the post that we wrote yesterday. But the diary says that it was written today, not yesterday. Somehow Dad screwed up and my diary is out of whack. But he says that if we put the post in this one and explain what’s going on it’ll all be OK. So, because Dad can’t figure out technology – which is his job – yesterday’s (Sunday’s) post is below…

Yesterday the strangest thing happened to me. It was a Saturday, so I knew that Mom and Dad would both be home to play with me and keep me occupied. Everything was normal throughout the first part of the morning. I got up, at some cereal and some formula, had burpies, played on the floor for a while, watched a little TV, and then got tired and took a nap. But then, when I woke up from my nap, everything had changed. I was still me, and I was still in my house, but Kim was there!

Kim and Christine take care of me on Wednesdays most of the time. They are fun to be with and I always have a blast in their rooms. Whenever I’m with them I go out into other people’s rooms and visit with their friends. I go to lunch with them and am the talk of the dining hall. I get held by a ton of different people and am happy, happy, happy all day. (Except for when I get tired or cranky and I just need to let off some steam. Then I’m not so happy. But I don’t talk about that much.)

Anyway, on Saturday morning I woke up from my nap and Dad was standing there in work clothes with Kim and John. John is Kim’s friend who I see a lot when I’m staying with Kim. He’s fun to be around, too.

“Hi Kim and John,” I said as I pushed myself up onto my arms. I looked up over the pad around the crib bars and tried to get a better look at them. “What are you doing in my house?”

Dad told me not to be rude to Kim and that she was going to take care of me while he and Mom were out of the house.

“But it’s Saturday, Dad,” I said with some disappointment in my voice. “It’s my day together with you and Mom.”

Dad told me that he felt bad and there was nothing he could do about it, but Mom was already gone to someplace called the “spa” and he had to go visit one of his clients in Boston. So Kim would take care of me for a part of the day. “But your Mom and I will be back as soon as we can and then we’ll play.”

I thought that was good enough, and it was such a strange thing to see Kim in my house. So I decided that I would be a good girl and play with Kim and John for as long as I could. We sat on the floor and played on my pink blanket with the little strings that I keep trying to pick up. I showed her all of my toys and she marveled that I had so many that she hadn’t seen before. I winked at John and he winked back, sharing a special bond that I have with him. I also have the bond with just about any other man I meet, but John doesn’t need to know that.

I got hungry soon after I got up, so Dad made me a bottle and then left the house. I sat with Kim and John and at my bottle, happy as a clam. It was so nice that I could have all of my things and still play with someone that I like. Kim and John listened to some CD’s and Kim talked on the phone a few times and we watched a little TV and played on the computer some. It was great. Eventually I got al played out, so I ate some more and went back to sleep. The great thing about having Kim there but being in my house is that I could play with my friends all I wanted, but when it was time to sleep I could go to my own crib instead of lying on Kim’s bed. Her bed is fine, but my crib is better.

I went to sleep thinking that I’d play with Kim and John more when I got back up. Just like I do at her place. But when I awoke I found that Dad was there for me instead of Kim.

“Where’s Kim,” I asked. I had really wanted to play with her more.

“She went home now that I’m back, little girl,” Dad said to me as he picked me up out of my crib. “Now we can play just like we usually do on Saturdays.”

I thought that it was kind of stinky that I didn’t get to finish play time with Kim, but I didn’t tell Dad because it could hurt his feelings. I like playing with Dad, but Kim’s fun too. Dad and I played on the floor and I played with his hat in my excer-saucer, and we took pictures together and had lots of fun. I couldn’t have wished for anything more on my Saturday, except for Mom to be there with us. My wishes must be really good, because during one of our play times Mom came it the door! Wow – now my weekend really is complete. I got to play with Mom and Dad and Kim and John!

I’ve got a new wish now. Maybe it will come true too. I wish that I could stay at home all the time and have my friends come to play with me here. I wish that Patty could take care of me here with the other kids, and that Kim and Christine could always play in my house with my toys. I just really like my stuff in my house and want to be with it all the time. Is that too much to ask? I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

2002-12-13T20:08:00.000-05:00

I'm sleeping longer now, but I'm awake longer too. How does that happen?

Last night I got sleepy around 7 o'clock in the evening. That's kind of normal, but I often get to stay up until 8 or 8:30 because I'm cute and Mom wants to be sure that I sleep all the way through the night. It's important to Mom and Dad that this happen, so I go along with them on it. Still, even when I'm tired earlier I usually get to stay up later. But not last night. Last night I was reading with Mom at 7:30 and in bed well before 8. I was tired, so I went to sleep. No problem.

This morning I woke up with Mom standing over my crib. She was wondering how I had slept all that time.

"How long did I sleep, Mom?" I asked.

"12 whole hours, peanut," she replied.

I marveled. 12 hours! 12 hours? That couldn't be! I'm not a sleepy freak like my cousin Shannon. She can sleep that long, but not me! I'm the one who sees the world!

Funny thing is, though, that I am seeing the world. Or more of it for a longer amount of time. Today at Patty's house I didn't really want to take any naps. I got a little sleepy occasionally and maybe nodded off for 10 or 20 minutes a couple of times, but for most of the day I was up and playing with everyone else. I got some cereal, and I tasted something new that I didn't like called "applesauce" (which wasn't as nasty as the "bananas" but not nearly as good as carrots or beans). I also played for a while in my excersaucer that's at Patty's house and I jumped in the jumpy seat that hangs in the doorway. The jumpy seat was the thing I was going to talk about last week until the pain from my teeth caused me to write about something else. It's fun to jump around and wave my rattle as I'm jumping. I think that the noise of the rattle actually makes the jumpy seat go higher!

But the long story short is that I got to play a lot longer than I usually do at Patty's because I didn't take a long nap. I think I've stumbled onto something here... longer sleep = longer play. It's as if I got all my naps in at once during the night and didn't need them during the day. It's actually great!

Tonight Dad put me down for an evening nap because I was starting to get cranky when I got home from Patty's. I don't hold that against him. I was a little tired. But I'm not sure I needed it. I need to somehow convince Mom and Dad that I'm OK with going to bed a little earlier if it means staying up all day and playing. Maybe tomorrow night we can try a new routine. One that I make, this time.

2002-12-11T22:32:00.000-05:00

Why does Dr. Meany hate me so much? What did I ever do to him?

Mom didn't tell me that we were going to see Dr. Meany today. But I knew something was up because she and I stayed home this morning instead of going to see Kim and Christine. We bundled into one of those horrid suits and went off to an office that looked familiar. I knew something was up because I remembered being in that office before, but I had forgotten that it was Dr. Meany's office. So much has happened since the last time I saw him that I had almost forgotten all about him and his horrible jabby needles of pain. Oh, but I was to remember all too well soon.

Mom and I played with the toys out in Dr. Meany's office. He has lots of toys there. I was able to put some of them in my mouth before Mom came to take them away from me and pull them out of my mouth. They were yummy! We sat in the office with another person who was almost exactly my age. He didn't say all that much and was kind of slug-like - much like a lot of the younger babies are. It's hard to believe that I was ever as inactive as that! I sat on the floor and tried pulling as many things as I could toward me without tipping over. It's a fun game. And I almost never tip over any more.

Finally the time came when Mom and I went into Dr. Meany's office. When he first came in I had been sitting playing with Mom on the table. When I saw him I got scared. "Not Dr. Meany," I thought. I cried a little bit - but only a little. Dr. Meany was really nice to me. He put me on the scale (which wasn't nearly as scary as it was when I was on dieting in those first couple of weeks) and he measured me. I got comfortable. Maybe Dr. Meany had turned over a new leaf. He wouldn't hurt me any more. He really is very nice. I tried talking with him a little bit, but he just babbled back to me. He didn't understand that I was offering my hand in friendship. I could be friends with my doctor. I could even (maybe) like my doctor again, like I did when I first started visiting him.

Then it happened. He came at me with his big sharp sticks and poked me not once, not twice, but three times in the leg! Yow - that hurt a lot! I cried and cried and looked at Dr. Meany and told him through the tears that I could never be his friend ever in my life. Mean, mean, mean Dr. Meany! The pain sticks did something else to me this time - they made me leak! But this wasn't like the leaking that my mouth has been doing. No, it was a read leaking that hurt when the liquid came out. Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!!!!

Even when Mom tried to soothe me I still cried. She got my clothes back on and we were able to flee from Dr. Meany's office, but I still never ever want to go back there. I'll remember it if I ever go there again and I'll start crying as soon as we get into the office - not just when Dr. Meany sticks me with the jabby pointy pain sticks!

My legs hurt for some of the time during the day. Mom gave me some nice medicine that tasted kind of funny and I felt better. When we got home I got to try something new called bananas. They were tasty, but my legs still hurt so I wasn't able to finish a whole jar. Maybe next time I'll be able to eat more. It's hard to concentrate on food when thinking of all the things I would do to Dr. Meany if I ever got my hands on him. I would pick him up and throw him around the floor like I do with my lion. Then I'd take him like my rattle and shake, shake, shake him. Then I'd get some pain sticks of my own and make him feel the hurty-ness. Yeah, that's what I'd do! That meany.

2002-12-08T21:37:00.000-05:00

I think I'm leaking, and it hurts.

I was going to write today about my fun time yesterday at Patty's house. It was strange going to Patty's in the middle of the afternoon on a weekend and just spending a few hours there. And there was a new toy there that I was going to write about. But this pain that I've had all day is driving me crazy, so I can't concentrate enough to put together more than a few words about yesterday. All I'm thinking about is today.

The leak is a weird sort of leak. It's like the drool and spit that I've always had is growing and pooling in my mouth more. At first I took advantage of it and made some great raspberry noises just like Mom does on my neck and tummy. It made Mom laugh when I did that. I also was able to blow some bubbles that I could actually see in the mirror. It was a great time. But the drool kept coming and coming and made long wet strands on my blanket when I laid down and on my clothes when I sat. I've sprung a leak and I don't know how to make it stop.

Today the pain came. It's a slow pain - it doesn't come sharply or quickly like when I tip over onto the floor and thump my head. It's a lingering pain that seems to come upon me only when I'm not thinking about anything else or playing with anything else. It was subtle at first - there was a dull itch in my mouth that felt like I needed to scrape my gums against something. I shove so many toys into my mouth all day that I was able to scratch that itch pretty easily. But now it is a sharper pain coupled with a throbbing feeling that is centered right at the front of my mouth. Cold things help, so when Mom or Dad grab one of the cool rings that I can hold and stick in my mouth it's quite nice. But it can't be too cold. This afternoon I asked for something cold and Dad gave me an ice cube. But it was so cold that it stuck to my lip and I couldn't get it off! Dad was able to blow on the ice cube enough to get it to unfreeze from my lip, but it was a close call! And it didn't do a thing for the pain.

Mom got me a balm that really stung at first but after a while made the pain go away. I was able to stop thinking about the hurting in my mouth and unwind enough to fall asleep. Mom has said that she's giving it to me again tonight before I go to sleep. I told her that was fine as long as she took the stinging away. She said she'd put it on and it would make me feel better, but she didn't give any promises about the sting. I hope she really does take away the stinging, because that's just as bad as the pain at first.

It's funny, but whenever I'm actively doing something my mind slides away from the pain and I forget about it altogether. When I play with my toys or look in my mirrors or grab my chimes or rattles and fling them around me I don't even notice the pain at all. It's when I stop for a minute that the pain rises to the surface of my thoughts. Maybe it's there all the time and I'm able to forget about it. Or maybe the pain knows when I'm not doing something and chooses that point to pounce on me. All I know is that the front of my mouth really hurts and there's some kind of lump that I can feel when I chew on my hand. If I could grab the tiny lumps with my fingers I'd try to get them out of my mouth so the pain would go away. But I'm still not good enough at grabbing little tiny things like the lumps - especially with all that spit from the leak.

I'm leaking and it hurts. When will the pain go away? And how can I plug up this leak?

2002-12-05T19:21:00.000-05:00

I've not written in the diary in a long time, but it's because I've been so befuddled by the world. Everything I thought I knew is now reversed. I don't know what to think.

The main reason I've been so confused is that Outside is no longer a place that's very inviting. It used to be that whenever I was sad or cranky I would just get Mom or Dad to take me outside and I'd calm right down. Outside was such a relaxing place - the warm breeze caressed my face and the sun always streamed into my eyes, making me close them and come that much closer to sleep. I could see green everywhere I looked, which was great because many of my outfits were green and it was probably my favorite color. I yearned to be Outside.

Now the Outside has become a forbidding place. It's cold outside. So cold that the rain falls from the sky in white clumps instead of misty drizzle or steady downpours. And when the rain hits the ground it doesn't turn it more green, it turns it white too. The warm breeze has turned into a bracing wind that blows icicles into my face. The sun still shines brightly on some days, but it doesn't offer any warmth. Whereas the sunshine made my eyes close and the warmth made me drift to sleep, the sunshine now is just annoying because the cold makes me so uncomfortable. Even worse, though, are the days that are cloudy. There's more of those now. So when I look out the window in the car or walk around in Mom or Dad's or Patty's or Kim's or Christine's arms I see gray on white all around me. Where are the greens? Even the trees don't have any green on them any more. Something happened to them - some sort of disease, perhaps? Their leaves are now brown like their bark. Some of the trees don't even have leaves any more. They fell off and blew around the neighborhood. What kind of sickness could do that to all the trees?

The worst thing about Outside these days, though, is that I can't just go out the front door or back door with Mom or Dad. Instead, every time we want to go outside I have to be bundled into one of two horrible, bulky, overly hot outfits. The bigger of the two is the most annoying. Mom calls it a "snowsuit", but I call it "the bulky thing". The bulky thing is so big that I can barely get into my car seat without getting pinched by the straps. And it's so thick that I can only barely move my arms in it. I hate it. The second outfit is thinner but still very annoying. It has holes that my hands and feet can poke out of, but half the time my hands or feet fall back into the holes so I can't grab anything. It's not so thick that the car seat pinches like the bulky thing, but it's still a tight squeeze. Whenever I see that Mom or Dad are getting out either of these suits I start to cry that I don't want to go Outside. It's so comfortable Inside.

I hate the Outside. I can't believe that I'm saying it, but it's true. I hate it. Why couldn't it stay the way it was? And will it ever be as good as I remember ever again?

2002-12-02T21:05:00.000-05:00

The world is a funny place. And not "Funny - huh", but "Funny - ha ha!"

More and more things in this funny world are making me laugh out loud in glee. When Mom touches me in certain places (like under my chin) there's a sensation on my skin that really makes me break out in peals of laughter. I can't contain myself, so I squeal with joy. When Dad makes chompy noises on my belly he's sounds really queer - not at all how he usually sounds - and it makes me crack up. Anytime someone pokes their head around a corner and says "Hi Morgan" I smile and giggle. The world is such fun!

Mom and Dad are always showing me "the baby in the mirror". They make it sound like the baby in the mirror is someone else, but I know it's me. I always laugh when I see myself in the mirror. I like seeing the funny bald little person being held in Mom or Dad's arms and knowing that it's me that's funny and bald and in Mom or Dad's arms. I smile at me and I smile right back. I laugh and slap at Mom or Dad's arms and the mirror me laughs and slaps too. Even though I know that it's me in the mirror I still always stare intently trying to catch the mirror me doing something that I haven't done yet. It shouldn't happen - I know - but other things that shouldn't happen have. Like rain sticking to the ground in big white clumps. So I peer at the me in the mirror and laugh because mirror-me is peering right back out of the mirror waiting for me to do something that she hasn't done yet. And mirror-me laughs with me.
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Sometimes the laughter burbles up inside and comes out in a loud squeak. "Hyeiiaaah!!" Sometimes I think of something that strikes my fancy and I chuckle to myself. "Ha ha. Ha ha ha." Other times the anticipation of joy is so great that I break out in infectious giggles. "Hehehehheh!" And then there's the times that I get so excited and happy that all three types of laughs come streaming out helter skelter... "Heheheheh Ha Ha Ha Hehehyeiiiaaaaahhhh!! Ha Hehehe!!"

The world is such a funny place. I just can't stop laughing!

2002-11-30T16:27:00.000-05:00

Gimme gimme gimme isn't good enough any more. I want to have it all, but I want to get it myself.

The game that I like the most these days is any game that involves my grabbing something and sticking it in my mouth. Yesterday the game was played with a spoon, a jar, and some beans. It was fun - Dad put the beans in my mouth with the spoon while I tried to grab the jar that held the beans. I was able to grab it at least two or three times during a single feeding. Once I even got Dad to spill the beans on the chair I was sitting in. Better be careful next time, Dad - don't spill the beans again!

A few days ago Mom and I played the game but this time she actually gave me the object I was looking for, rather than me grabbing it. Mom and I were making Dad's birthday present out of sheets of paper. Mom would give one of the pieces of paper to me and then she would take my picture as I was putting it in my mouth. I was really good at the game. At the beginning, when I was holding the "I" piece of paper I couldn't get the paper into my mouth before Mom took the picture. When I got the "Luv" sheet and the sheet with the heart on it I could get the edge of the papers into my mouth by the time that Mom snapped the picture. Finally, but the time we got to the "Daddy" sheet I was able to get it all the way into my mouth and have the paper wet and crinkled before Mom could get her picture. I win!

Really any time is good for this game. When Dad is opening the mail I grab for the envelopes. When Mom is changing me I grab for the lions that swing above my table. When Dad is playing with the computer or the phone or the remote control for the TV I'll try to grab whatever he's playing with so I can help him out. And after I help him I can put whatever I grab into my mouth. Those are the rules.

I'm not really happy when someone just gives me something anymore. I want to take it. So rather than saying "Gimme" with my mouth I'm saying "Gimme" with my hands. It's an implicit "Gimme", really. I see. I want. I grab. I put it in my mouth. Simple, really.

2002-11-28T10:20:00.000-05:00

One part of my nightly ritual that I've really started to like a lot is bath time. It's so much more fun now than it used to be.

Bath time comes every other night. It starts after I've finished my evening meal (last night was beans!) and before Mom reads to me and puts me to bed. Bath time is mostly a time for me and Mom to be together, as Dad has never, ever given me a bath. In my life. But he does help out at the end, as I'll get to in a bit. Bath time starts with the big WHOOSH of the bathtub faucet spewing water into the tub. It used to be that the WHOOSH was only on for a little bit, because I had my own little tub that sat within the bigger tub. That was where I got washed when I was first born and Mom and I continued to use that tub for a long, long time. Just a couple of weeks ago, though, that littler tub became too little for me to sit in any more, so now the WHOOSH is a lot longer because we need enough water to fill up the big tub for me to play in.

Bath time is more fun now than it was before because I can sit in the big tub all by myself. Whereas before, in the little tub, I was forced into a leaning/sitting position by the shape of the tub, now I can take whatever position I want to in the big tub. Mostly I sit up, but sometimes I like to lie down and have Mom hold me up while I practice my swimming. I'm a good swimmer.

Bath time used to be a time for me to get clean, but now it is so much more. I have my swishy toys that go into the bathtub with me and run away from me when I push water at them. But I can reach out and grab them and bring them back to me. Whenever I grab a squishy toy I like to put it in my mouth because they have a lot of water in them that comes out all over my face when I squish them into my mouth. Look Mom, I'm helping!

In addition to the squishy toys, bath time has a few other things that are really fun to play with. There's the thermometer duck, who bobs and weaves around the bath but isn't as much fin to squish into my mouth. There's the washcloth that Mom uses to clean me off. Sometimes I grab that and stick it in my mouth too. And then there's the bubbles. Oooohhhh, the bubbles! Sometimes the bubble swirl around me and I try to catch them. Sometimes I can actually reach down and grab the bubbles with my hand and bring them up to my mouth. It's fun - they don't taste like anything! And sometimes I lean down and put my face near the water and try to suck the bubbles right off of the top. That's the most fun, although it's also the part of play time where Mom puts her hands closest to me to make sure I don't fall so my head is completely under the water. She worries that way.

At the end of bath time Dad often shows up and says, "Who's the duck?" He thinks he's being funny because my bath towel has a duck's head that flops over my head and keeps it warm. When I'm in the towel he thinks I look like a duck. Silly Dad. I used to be scared when I got into the towel because the air outside the bath was so much colder than the water in the bath. I would cry and cry all while Mom or Dad dried me off in the duck towel. But now I've come to realize that the air's not so bad and that I'll get warm really quickly since Dad or Mom are very good at making me warmer while they dry me off. It's fun now, and not scary at all!

I wish bath time came every night, but every other night is fine too. It gives me and Mom a time to bond with each other and makes me smell nice - no more formula or poopie smell is left over after I come out of the bath! Bath time is really one of the best times of the night.

2002-11-25T11:33:00.000-05:00

I should never have wished for my parents to put me back on my old routine. When I said I liked my old routine of taking an evening nap I didn't really think about what I was saying. What I meant to say is that I wanted an evening nap only if just Mom and Dad and I were staying in like we do over the week. Because I didn't make that clear in my last posting I ended up with some unintended consequences this weekend.

On Saturday Mom and Dad and I went over to Miss Suzanne's house, where she was holding a party. When we got there we found that there was already a baby that is younger than me as well as a baby that is older than me in the house. This is very strange, as I've not been around two other babies that are about my age since visiting Grandma Tigger a while back. And before that I think that I last saw two or more babies my age at play group, way back a few months ago. Both of the babies were boys and they both were pretty laid back about things, just like me. The one baby that was older than me was much bigger than I am. He was eating with a spoon, which was quite enthralling to watch instead of experience. The younger baby was smaller than me, but not by much. I guess boys are just bigger than girls.

I was having a grand time sitting with people at the party or sitting on the floor playing with my toys when Mom swooped in and said that it was time for my evening nap.

"But I'm having a lot of fun at the party, Mom," I said. "I don't want to take my nap."

"You're rubbing your eyes, peanut," Mom said. "You said you wanted an evening nap and now is the time for you to go down."

Since I can't run away from her yet I was helpless in her arms as she took me upstairs into Miss Suzanne's bedroom. I had to admit, I was a little sleepy. Naptime made sense. I started to nod off to sleep when I heard a big laugh from downstairs. The party! I was missing the party!

"MOM!!! I want to go to the party!!!" I cried. Nothing happened. No one came to see me. So I cried louder, "Mom - bring me to the party NOW!!" That got Mom's attention. She was by my side rubbing my back and trying to calm me down. But I didn't want to get calmed down. I didn't care about the evening nap. I wanted to have fun at the party. I shouldn't be at a party and not get to have any fun!

It took a long time to convince her, but I finally got Mom to bring me back to the party. Once I was there I sat in my car seat in the room with the food and was on my best "stranger" behavior. No one heard a peep out of me. But I was at the party. And it was good.

The next night, Sunday, was supposed to be different. Mom and Dad and I went out to visit Mr. Ken and Miss Felices in Boston in the afternoon, so I figured I could easily slip back into my evening nap routine. It all would've been so perfect if it hadn't been for Mr. Richard and Miss Sandy coming over for dinner. I had gotten a small afternoon nap and a nice morning nap, so I was ready for some company to play with. But I started to get tired and rubbed my eyes some, so Mom declared again that it was time for my evening nap.

"Again?" I asked. Mom didn't reply, but just put me in my crib and turned on the music. I was about to drift into sleep when I remembered the previous night. They wanted me to sleep and miss all the fun then too. But by crying I was able to convince Mom to let me stay at the party. I wanted to visit with our guests more than I already had. So why not try the same tactic that had worked so well on Saturday. So I started crying. No one came. I cried harder. Dad came up and tried to soothe me, which worked a little. When he went back downstairs I cried even harder and this time both Mom and Dad ran up to see me. I talked to them and convinced them to let me be with them at dinner. I promised that I wouldn't cry or make a peep as long as they brought me back downstairs to join the fun.

I guess my convincing skills are better than I thought they were because for the second night in a row I was able to bypass the evening nap and stay up with Mom and Dad at a party. It was loads of fun down with Mr. Richard and Miss Sandy. We stayed up for a long time and I got to eat a whole lot of cereal as well as some more formula. I played more with everyone and didn't cry or spit up (much) or anything. It was loads of fun.

So maybe I didn't want to go back to my evening nap after all. Maybe I want to stay up later and have fun with Mom and Dad. I can handle going to bed for the night at 8 or 8:30 instead of getting up from my evening nap at that time. As long as my parents always cut me in on the fun.

2002-11-22T10:05:00.000-05:00

I liked my old routine a lot.

I used to have this great routine going. After a day spent playing at Patty's house or spending time with Christine and Kim I would hop in the car with Mom and we'd drive home. On the way I would fall asleep. But that was OK. I knew that when we got home Mom and Dad would let me sleep for a few hours and then wake me up around 9 PM so that we could play and I could eat and maybe take a bath. Then, maybe around 10 or 10:30, I would go back to bed and sleep until the sun came up.

They are trying to change the routine. Now when I go to sleep in the car I might not get awakened if I don't snap out of my sleep when they take me out of my car seat. If I do get up right away we get the play time and maybe the bath time and the food, but they are trying to put me to bed between 7 PM and 8 PM now. I still sleep OK through the night (maybe waking up here and there throughout the night looking for my pacifier to suck on) and get up when the sun comes up. Except now that time is 7 in the morning. These people are trying to fool me into sleeping for 11 to 12 hours a night! How dare they!

I used to expect that my late evening nap would be just that - a nap. But now I can't be assured that I'm getting a nap. I might be going down for the night when I fall asleep in the evening. And there is still so much to do! I want to play with Mom and Dad as much as I can. I can't get enough of the game called "Lying-Sitting-Standing" (or "Up-Up, Down-Down"). Then there's fun games with cereal and a spoon to play. Last night I played "Spit-Up", where I tried to get Dad to change out of as many clothes as possible. A side-effect to the game was that he changed me out of my clothes a lot too. Sometimes I like to just lie on the floor or sit in a lap. But I can't do that while I'm sleeping!

I don't know what I can do to get the routine to change back to the way that it was before. Maybe I should take more naps in the day time so I can stay up later. Or maybe I should start getting up before the sun rises. I wonder what Mom and Dad would say about moving play time to the morning rather than the evening. Would they like to play at 4 in the morning?

2002-11-20T22:51:00.000-05:00

I have mail!

When I first posted this diary online I made Dad enter an email address for me. I did this mainly because I had heard that to have a web site you need to have an email address. I was going to have a web site, so I needed an email address. Dad, being the person that he is, took the cheap way out and posted an email address that looks like it could be mine - but was actually his. He said that if any mail came my way I could get it out of his box. Once I got an email from Mom's friend Suzanne, but it didn't really click that it was an email. When Dad read it to me I thought that he was just telling me something that Mom's friend Suzanne had told him. Just this last week, though, I got an email and Dad read it to me. This time I got that it was mail and it was for me. Someone wrote me!

The mail was from Nana. She said she was sorry that she couldn't come up and play with me and that she wanted to come but she had a cold. When I saw Nana again I told her that Dad gave me her email and that I forgave her. For that I got kisses. Yay!

Another email come in to me yesterday. This time it didn't get sent to Dad's box, but rather came in from Mom. It was from Uncle Kevin. He said that my last posting was getting a little heavy and that Dad should lay off whatever he was on when he was writing it. I think it's great that Uncle Kevin reads my posts, but he's got something very wrong. Dad does not write my diary entries. He edits them. I can't quite get my fingers to play on the keyboard the way they need to in order for me to type my entries on my own. (But I am trying and I've got the picture to prove it.) So Dad helps where he can. Sometimes he does a good job getting the bolds and italics just right. Other times he screws up the spelling or the grammar. He's not perfect. He's also not very imaginative. I don't think that he could sit in front of the computer and make up things about me all by himself. He's a nice guy, but I don't think he's that smart. [Am too - Ed].

Dad - what did I tell you about putting comments into my diary? Stop it.

Anyway, I am glad that Uncle Kevin reads my diary and that it brings him a little enjoyment. But it's me, Morgan, who's writing these entries. Dad and Mom don't really have much input into the content of the entry. It's all me all the time.

In order to avoid more confusion about who's doing what I finally got Dad to get me an email address of my own. If anyone else is out there who reads my diary and wants to talk to me they can send me a mail at morgansachleben@attbi.com. If no one is reading this diary but me that's fine too. I'm really writing it for my own purposes... if anyone else finds it nice to read that's just a bonus.

When Dad got me my new email address he also got me a new web site where I can post pictures and anything else I want. I'm trying to get him to build the new site as soon as possible, but he likes to drag his feet and surf the internet a lot. I don't know when it's going to be up, but as soon as it is I will post the new link in this diary. When I do switch sites anyone who reads this (at least Nana and Uncle Kevin) will still be able to get to my diary from the current address, but the new address will be better. Dad said some technical mumbo-jumbo about it all, but honestly I couldn't be bothered to listen and remember. All I know is that it will work. I hope it does. I've got some good pictures to share and I want to start to do fun things with my web site. I have so many ideas!

2002-11-18T14:23:00.000-05:00

Why do Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert go to church?

Mom and I sometimes go down to the bottom of the hill and visit the little white church on the side of the road. It's a nice enough church and we sometimes see some of the people in the play group there. Mom and I go very irregularly - maybe once a month - and I'm really not sure why we go at all. When I asked Mom she mentioned something about religion and community and raising her little peanut right. The religion thing went completely over my head but I can kind of understand the community thing, I suppose. If I think about church as a big-person play group then it all makes sense. But if that is the case, then why doesn't Dad go with us? He's never even been inside of the little white church by the side of the road. When we go down the hill he stays in bed or plays on the computer. Why doesn't Dad go to adult play-group?

When we last saw Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger we were at their house in Baltimore. When we were there Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert and Mom and I went to the big church at the far end of their street. We went down into the basement where there were a lot of people singing and having a good time. It was a lot looser than the services at the little church at the bottom of the hill, even though there were more people there. Auntie First and Uncle Kevin and everyone was there. After church we stuck around for a while and "socialized" with a lot of Grandpa Bert's and Grandma Tigger's friends. We talked and people said I was cute and everyone laughed. This very much reinforced the idea that church was a place for adults and their families to have a play-group. Everyone there was Grandpa Bert's and Grandma Tigger's friends. It all makes so much sense.

This weekend when Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert were staying with us they and Mom went down the hill to the little church by the side of the road. Dad and I stayed here at home. I asked Dad why they were all going to church if their play-group (community, I suppose) was all in Baltimore. Dad didn't know. He didn't even try to make up an answer, like he usually does. He jut shrugged and played "Eat the footie" with me some more. But it's been bothering me all day. Why did Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert go to church if they didn't know anyone there and weren't going to socialize? And why did Mom go without me if, when we go, we usually talk to people that I met in my play-group? Is there something more that I'm not seeing? Is it this religion thing? And, if so, rather than asking the question "Why do Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger go to church" should the question really be "Why don't Dad and Mom and I go to church?"

2002-11-16T13:50:00.000-05:00

Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert are here!

It turns out that Mom was right this time in anticipating that they would come. I am so glad that it all worked out that they could make it. With all the excitement of them being here, though, I am very out of sorts. Since they arrived I've been very happy - I've been gurgling and talking to everyone and playing with toys with both Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert. But there have also been times that I've been very sad - I've cried more about sleep and food in the last day than I have in the last week. There's something about family being here that always makes my emotions a little stronger than normal. I don't know what it is.

Very often when I'm home Dad takes care of my feedings, but while Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert have been here Grandpa Bert has taken care of feeding me more often than not. Yesterday he and I played with the spoon and then polished off a bottle. This morning I almost went crazy looking for some food after my morning nap and finally Grandpa Bert showed up with a bottle that I sucked down as fast as I could. He tried to pull it away from me about mid-way through to do burpies like Mom or Dad do, but I told him in no uncertain terms to give it back to me now. He listened and gave it right back. Good Grandpa.

2002-11-14T08:50:00.000-05:00

There's something that Mom's been trying to teach me for the past week or so called "anticipation". It's when you don't have something yet but you know that you will have it soon. Anticipation is not quite like hope (which I get, by the way) in that you are pretty sure that what you expect is going to occur. Hope is wishing real hard and being happy if it comes.

Mom is trying to get me to anticipate the arrival of Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert this weekend. Every day for the past week I've heard about the fact that they are coming and how I should be excited that they'll be here soon. I'm trying. I really am. But I can't quite get to the same level of excitement as Mom when thinking about Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert's visit with us. I hope (that other word) that they'll be here. I know I'll have a great time with them. But a week or two is a really long time, and I've got a lot of living to do between now and then, so I'm not getting too worked up about it yet.

It doesn't help that Mom also said that Nana was coming up to visit last night and she didn't show up. Mom first told me that Nana was coming yesterday morning and I really worked on the anticipation thing since I knew that the expected event was just a few hours away. I built some excitement. I felt sort of squiggly in my tummy. I thought I'd see Nana. But Nana didn't come. My expectations (things that happen when you anticipate really hard) were dashed. I've found that having expectations dashed is a lot harder than having hope dashed, because you don't plan as much for hopes as you do for expectations. So I don't want to get excited about anticipation (like expecting that Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert coming) anymore.

I don't mind having Mom worked up in anticipation, though, because it means that my room has gotten neatened and prettied up. I used to sleep in a room that was almost all white. The walls were white, the bookcase was white, the changing table was white and my diapers were white. The only things that were not white were the crib and dresser (dark brown) and the soft walls inside the crib (red). Since Mom began expecting that Grandma Tigger is coming my world has been transformed. Now my walls are a pale yellow. There are pictures on the walls too with nice red or blue or green contrasts. At the top of the walls are painted on pictures of flowers in blue and green. My crib and changing table have gone from dark brown to a brown so light that it's blonde. The dresser is gone. The bookcase has gotten smaller and is almost the same color as the crib and table. A rocking chair is in the room now, with a nice dark green cushion that compliments the yellow of the wall. In fact, I think the only thing that is still white in the room is my diaper!

So expectations have brought good things to my life. I love what happens when other people have them. Just don't expect me to get too excited by anticipation myself.

2002-11-11T16:22:00.000-05:00

I love my Mom. Lots. I know just exactly how much I love her because I spent a whole weekend without her here.

At first nothing much seemed different. Sure, in the morning rather than me and Mom saying goodbye to Dad it was me and Dad saying bye to Mom. This is strange, but not completely out of the realm of the normal. In other words, it's happened before. Dad took me to Patty's house where I played with Patty and the other kids that she takes care of. I also ate some more cereal with Patty, which cinches it that this spoon thing isn't just a Grandma game. At the end of the day Dad came to pick me up (which has also happened on occasion) and we drove to the store, where I helped pick out the groceries. By the end of the night we had both eaten our dinners, but still we hadn't seen Mom again. This was very strange. It was only when I asked late at night that Dad said that Mom was going to be gone for another day and a half.

A DAY AND A HALF????

Now that it had been brought to my attention that Mom wasn't there I started to notice how much I missed her. The first thing that Mom does and that Dad didn't do was bath time. Every other night Mom puts me into the tub and I get to splash around and play with the water. Then I get wrapped into a snuggly towel with a duck's face on it and we play "Who's the ducky?". Friday was supposed to be bath night, but there was no bath time. The next night I thought sure that I'd get to play in the water, but still Dad didn't give me a bath. I must be all stinky and sticky by now, because last night, when Mom got home, I still didn't get into the bath. Maybe that will happen tonight. I hope so.

The next thing I noticed about Mom that I love was the singing. Mom is always singing to me, especially when I'm getting my diapers changed. It's different when Dad changes my diapers. We smile at each other a lot and sometimes he talks to me and asks me questions when I'm getting changed. But he doesn't sing like Mom. I really missed the singing this weekend. Another time I missed the singing is in the car. Mom often has something called "classic rock" on the radio and she sings along with the songs. Dad usually has "classical music" on, which doesn't have any words but is quite soothing. It's much more fun to ride with Mom and her singing, even if it's a lot more jarring and noisy too.

Mom is also always giving me kisses and raspberries on my tummy and neck. It's so much fun because it tickles and makes a funny noise. When Dad plays with me (which is often) he doesn't make spitting kissing noises, but rather he makes biting and chewing noises. When Mom plays she says, "I'm going to get the baby!" and kisses me all over. When Dad plays he says "I'm going to eat the baby" and makes chomping monster noises in the air above my head or sticks my foot in his mouth. Both ways of playing are fun, but I found this weekend that I need both the monsters and the kisses. Just one doesn't cut it.

Finally, Mom talks more than Dad. Dad is often talking to me when I'm in the room, but Mom is almost always talking to me when I'm with her. Together we babble about nothing in particular and chat up a storm. I squeal in delight and she squeals right back at me. It's like she understands exactly what I mean even before I tell her about it. Dad certainly understands what I tell him, but he doesn't talk back as much as Mom does.

There are a lot more reasons why I love my Mom. There's the reading, and the rocking, and, well, everything. I love my Dad too, but I really missed my Mom while she was gone. I'm really glad she's back now and hope she won't go away like that ever again. Because it's not as much fun around here without her.

2002-11-06T23:21:00.000-05:00

I'm still not quite sure about my balance, but I'm starting to get the hang of sitting and standing... with a little help from Dad and Mom.

For as long as I can remember, Dad and Mom have held me in a standing position and played with me. Sometimes I stand on Dad's chest. Sometimes I stand on the floor. Other times I stand on the bed. But I've always been standing, even when I wasn't really sure why. Whenever Dad or Mom have held me in the past I've been supported by their hands. They've held my chest or my hips or even my legs to keep me stable. Recently, though, they've taken to holding me in a standing position with just two fingers - one in each of my hands.

The game goes like this: I'm lying on the floor gurgling and trying to get those wiggly feet that I'm always seeing. Dad or Mom puts a finger in each of my hands and I grab on tight. Then it's "One, Two, Three, and Up!" I get pulled into a semi-squat where my weight is supported by a combination of their fingers and my feet. Then I have to push up with my legs to get into a standing position. If I don't do that last part by myself they let me fall back to the floor with their fingers still in my hands. But if I do get to a standing position we all go "Yay!!" and I can stand on my own, using the fingers in my hands to help balance me. I know that sometimes those fingers compensate for some of the times that I can't balance properly, but I'm really there - really standing. And it feels like I'm all on my own.

Mom and Dad and I have been playing sitting games too. These can start with me on my back getting pulled into a sitting position or they can start by one of them putting me on a table or on the floor. They let me sit so I can see my feet (those darned wigglies - I'll get them some day) and hold me with just a palm of their hand. Then, once I'm stable, they let go of me with even the palm and I'm sitting all by my self. True, I haven't gotten my balance right yet so I can lift my head all that much. I think that's why I've been watching the wiggly feet so much. But I've learned that I can brace myself with my hand against the floor (or table) and that helps me keep my balance. The only problem comes when I need to keep my balance and grab the wiggly feet and play with a toy all at the same time. I have to make a choice, and sometimes the toy and the feet win. When that happens I can take a header onto the surface... but usually Dad or Mom are there to catch me before I clonk my head. I say most of the time because I've already hit my head on the floor a couple of times and the table at least once. It hurts some when I do that, so I'm hoping that I can master the balance of sitting soon.

I've heard that practice makes perfect so I'm practicing my sitting and standing whenever I can. Even if I can't get to the proper position entirely on my own I'm learning more about what it takes every day. And I feel so proud that I'm able to push from squatting to standing or that I'm able to sit with my hand bracing me against something that I just need to smile and squeal. A lot.

2002-11-05T22:25:00.000-05:00

I can't believe that I'm going to end up like these little mutants. Please, let it not be so.

When I'm at Patty's house during the week I hang out with two other kids that Patty takes care of too - Ryan and Rachel. Mom tells me that they are both about a year older than I am and tells me that they are what I can look forward to being in a year. The future looks bleak. These little gnomes can sometimes put a few words together so that people can understand them. Sometimes not, though. I'm hoping that I can put together my words more coherantly than they do so that when I start talking to people other than Mom or Dad or my babysitters they can understand me fully. Ryan and Rachel also get excited a lot and run around making a lot of noise. I've started to try to be as loud as they are, but it's hard to figure out how loud is loud enough. So I'm squealing as loud as I can. But it's still not as loud as those floor people.

They don't seem to care about conserving energy, either. I noted a few months ago that the play group people always ran around and fell down and yelled and generally behaved like they were possessed by some sort of fast moving spirit. Ryan and Rachel seem possessed by the same spirit - and they don't seem to know when to quit. For example, one day recently they were playing a game of "ring around a rosy". They would spin around Patty (who was sitting down on the floor singing a song) and then at the end of the song they would fall to the floor and giggle. When they got up again they weren't so sure on their feet, but they kept going for another game. This must have gone on for at least 15 games (I lost count after 4), and each time they were a little more wobbly on their feet. By the end they were barely able to stand, but insisted that Patty continue to sing so they could spin. God help me if I ever do something like that.

Now, I like Ryan and Rachel a lot. Some of the things that they do are fascinating. I really do envy in them the ability to walk around without falling (too much) and to be able to go over to a toy and pick it up rather than reaching for it and hoping that someone will bring it over. I can play with any toy that is nearby where I'm sitting or lying, but they get to have any toy in the place that they can see. They also aren't so reliant on someone holding a bottle for them to drink. They can hold their own cups and can bring it to Patty if they want more. I have been watching carefully and can now hold my bottle on my own, but it would be nice to be able to bring it to Patty if I wanted more than what I had. Those cups look fascinating too. I'll bet I could hold one if Patty or Mom or Dad gave me one.

2002-11-03T14:10:00.000-05:00

There is a really fun, noisy place that I went to yesterday. There were a lot of kids there, playing all sorts of games and climbing through tubes. There was singing and dancing and a giant mouse. Dad took me to Chuck E. Cheese's.

Truth to tell, I don't think that Dad really wanted to be there. We went because it was Cousin Cody's birthday and the party was at Chuck E. Cheese's. When we went in the door they put a sticker with a stamp on my hat and stamped Dad's hand. I didn't know why but Papa later told me that it was so that no one could steal me. I didn't know I was so cute that someone would think of stealing me. Sometimes, when I'm crying really hard, I've heard Mom and Dad say that they want to give me away. So I don't think anyone would need to stoop to stealing me; all they would need to do is ask.

When we got into Chuck E. Cheese's it was really loud. There were machines going "bling-bling" and kids running around going "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!". Really loud. We walked into the back and found Nana and Papa and Uncle Dave and Auntie Becky and Uncle Kenny and Auntie Sarah and all the cousins, as well as a host of people that I didn't know. As soon as I was out of my car seat Dad handed me over to Nana who held me for a while before passing me to Auntie Sarah. She told me that the other kids were Cody's cousins.

"Doesn't that make them my cousins too," I asked.

"Only if your Mom is married to Uncle Kenny," she replied. I told her I didn't think that Mom was married to Uncle Kenny, but that I'd ask her later. I ended up asking Dad, who told me that Uncle Kenny is not married to Mom and that the only cousins that I would have are ones that are kids of Mom or Dad's sisters or brothers. The other kids at the party were Cody's cousins because they were the kids of Uncle Kenny's brothers and sisters. So the only cousins I have are the ones I've already met: Tom, Cody, Kerry-Ann, Jessica, Brendan, Vicki, Shannon, and Caitlyn.

Speaking of Caitlyn, she was at the party in her car seat. For much of the time she was hanging out looking at the lights (something that was and still is very enthralling when the mood strikes), but at the end of the party she woke up and we talked. She didn't say much, but I told her about looking around at all of the other things that aren't on the ceiling. I also showed her about reaching and grabbing by pulling on her jumper and trying to get her face. I tried to grab her arms and show her how to reach for things, but she really wasn't interested. That's fine. I'll tell Shannon all about it when I see her next. Maybe she'll appreciate my findings more.

Chuck E. Cheese's was most fun because I had so many different people holding me and walking me around the place. I like it when people other than Mom and Dad and Patty walk me around. It's fun seeing things from another perspective. And the new people are always so much bouncier and animated when they are walking me around. Sometimes it seems like Mom or Dad are bored as they walk me. Sometimes they bounce but often they just plod along, like they really don't want to be walking like I do. It's not my fault that when I don't get the proper stimulation I get cranky. And when I get cranky I cry. Just make sure the stimulation keeps coming (like walking me around in new places unless I'm tired of walking and want something else) and I'm fine.

After Chuck E. Cheese's Dad and I went to Nana and Papa's house for the afternoon. There we had more fun with the spoon. When Grandma Tigger first pulled out the spoon and played with me I thought it was a fun Grandma game. Then when Mom and Dad pulled out the spoon another time I thought they were just having fun practicing the Grandma game. But it's come out more and more of late. It's gotten to the point where I'm sure that this isn't a Grandma game and that they're trying to teach me something. I've started to understand that the spoon contains food that tastes like formula and that the stuff on the spoon can range from thin as formula to so thick I can sometimes not get it through my stomach properly. I think I'd have more fun with the game if the stuff tasted more like Mom's milk and less like formula.

Hey - Mom's milk. That's right I almost forgot about that. I've not been getting much of that at all recently. In fact, I don't think I've gotten any in the last week. What's up with that? And how did I almost forget about the sweet milk that Mom has? Have I been getting so used to the icky formula that it slipped my mind?

Anyway, I'm getting the spoon game down a little more now. I still leak a lot of stuff out of my mouth after it's been put in, but I'm getting the hang of it. I'm just glad that they're still giving me a bottle before and after the spoon feedings. If I only had the spoon to get my food I think I'd go crazy... it's just so slow sometimes! Thankfully, I've begun to figure out that when I open my mouth the spoon comes faster.

Hanging out at Nana's was fun, and I got to visit with Auntie Becky and Jessica and Caitlyn a little more. I also got to play with an "excersaucer" like the one that is at Patty's. But it was a long day, what with the spoon and the fun at Chuck E. Cheese's, so I slept for most of the time I was there. I hope Nana didn't mind, but it can be really tiring having so much excitement and playing with so many people.

2002-10-30T22:57:00.000-05:00

Today I dressed up like Grandma. Pretty soon I'm going to tell Mom what to do, just like Grandma does too. Yippee!

Apparently tomorrow is some sort of special day. Dad said it is special because it is Cousin Cody's birthday. But that didn't really explain why I was dressing up like Grandma. So I asked Mom what tomorrow is. She said that it's something called Halloween. On that day all the dwarves come out of their warrens and beg for candy at the houses up and down the street. Mom said I am too little for candy so I get to help hand it out. Another tradition, in addition to the candy giving, is that the dwarves and regular people dress up as something fun or scary. Mom dressed me up as Grandma Tigger. Is that fun? Or scary?

I'm pretty sure that I've never seen Grandma Tigger wear an outfit quite like mine. It has a hood with a face on it and little floppy ears. The rest of the outfit is orange with black stripes. In fact, it doesn't really look much like the real person that is Grandma Tigger at all. But I saw a book with another picture of Grandma Tigger in it as she was bouncing around a forest with her friends Pooh and Piglet. Piglet is fun. I've got a chew toy that looks like him. And I've got another toy that looks like Grandma's other friend Eeyore. I think maybe Grandma Tigger bounced around with that crowd when she was younger and had a lot more energy. These days she dresses like a normal person and you can't even tell that she's got orange fur with black stripes.

I dressed up like Grandma Tigger. True, it was a younger version of her, but it was her all the same. I wonder, though, if Grandma Tigger had black stripes and orange fur and bounced all around when she was younger I wonder if I'm going to have orange fur when I get older and can bounce around. That would be something to really look forward to!

I asked Mom (since she was the one that really knew) why I was dressing up today if tomorrow is the special day. She said that some people celebrate early, especially if they can't see other people in their costumes on the special day. So I got to dress up today since I was visiting Kim and Christine and all the crew at Mom's work. Everyone loved my outfit and commented on how cute it made me. That wasn't the outfit that made the cute people, it was the baby. Well, maybe the outfit helped a little bit. Now that I know that tomorrow is special I wonder if Mom is going to dress me up again to go to Patty's house. Patty has been putting up decorations all over the house for the past couple of weeks. Now that I know that tomorrow is a special day it all makes sense. I wonder if we're going to do something special for Halloween at Patty's house. Maybe I'll get to see some funny or scary dwarves as they traipse around begging for goodies. Silly little people.

2002-10-29T10:52:00.000-05:00

Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme!

You got it, I want it. I've realized over the past week or so that when I reach for something I can often grab it on my own and stick it in my mouth or play with it on my own. No Mom or Dad or Patty required. Even better, when I want something that someone else has I can throw out my arms and they will bring it close enough for me to handle on my own. Mine mine mine mine mine!

It started with my bottle. For the longest time I would cry and then a bottle would magically appear. OK, I know it wasn't really magic, it was Mom or Dad that put it in my mouth. They held it up for me to drink and when the bottle was finished they would take it away. A couple of weeks ago they started playing little tricks on me - like holding the bottle so I could see it but not actually giving it to me. I have mean, awful parents. I knew that the bottle had food in it and that I was hungry. So I tried to get the bottle myself. I reached out my arms and batted the bottle. My parents laughed and said "Good girl". I was on the right track. A few days later they were playing the game again and I was able to not just bat the bottle, but grab it and pull it towards me. "Gimme gimme gimme," I said. Once I had the bottle near my lap grabbed the nipple with my mouth and I pivoted the bottle up with my arms. Food! Sweet food!

Next was the pacifier. Sometimes I want something to suck but the pacifier is nowhere to be found. When that happens I cry because I want it. A few days ago I was lying on my stomach and I saw it lying there. I wanted it. "Gimme," I said. But the pacifier didn't move. So I reached out and found that it was just within my reach. I grabbed it any which way I could and pulled it towards me. It came slowly and fitfully because I kept dropping it as I dragged/carried it towards my mouth. Once I had it near my head I got it into a position where the nipple was pointing upwards. I lifted my head and grabbed it with my lips and -- oooohhh, but it was nice to suck on something right then!

Finally I realized that I can reach out and manipulate not just the things that I need, like a pacifier or bottle, but things that I want - like toys. Dad and Mom and I were visiting with friends and the lady friend asked if I knew how to move things from one hand to another. "No, not yet," Dad said. But hearing that you could move a toy from one hand to the other made me want to try it. I picked up my lion from next to me and put it in my mouth. Then I moved my other hand up to my mouth and grabbed on the lion's tail. Letting go with the first hand, I moved the lion away from my mouth with the other hand and swung it around. Yay! I moved a toy just like I wanted to! Now I can grab for toys that Mom or Dad are holding or that are on the floor (if I'm on the floor too, of course) and play with them any which way. It's so exciting!

Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme. I know how to play that game now. It's mine and I'm taking it.

2002-10-26T22:55:00.000-04:00

A few people have told me that I look like a bobble-headed doll. This has happened to me as recently as last night, when one of Mom and Dad's friends mentioned that I was bouncing my head around a bit - first looking down and bouncing my head then looking around and bouncing my body. I never thought twice about it since I had never seen a bobble-headed doll and the way I move is the way I need to move to interact with people. I can almost always hold my head up and look around at anyone that is nearby (and many who are far away). Occasionally, though, my neck gets a little tired and I need to let my head fall a little bit to give my muscles a little rest. I bounce my body mostly when I'm standing up in Mom or Dad's arms. I still can't quite hold myself up completely on my own and I'm still having some trouble with balance. I can stand up when Mom or Dad hold my hips, but I still need to swivel and bob my torso in order to keep my balance. But I can feel the muscles in my back getting stronger every day - so I know that I'll be able to stand with everyone else on my own pretty soon. I hope.

But back to the bobble-headed doll. I never thought too much about it until a couple of nights ago. Dad and I were watching baseball again and it was some sort of special game. I think Dad called it the "World Series". It may have been special, but looked like the same game to me from my vantage point in Dad's lap. Somewhere in the middle of the game they showed a doll made up to look like one of the players. It was a bobble-headed doll. At first I thought that it looked fine. Maybe the head was a bit big, but overall the doll looked like a copy of a person. Then the person on the TV touched the doll's head and it started bobbling. Up and down and all around looking like an idiot. I couldn't believe my eyes. Was that what people thought I looked like?

I asked Dad about it. "Are people insulting me when they call me a bobble-headed baby?"

"No," he said. But he was sort of smiling at the time. I've been around him enough by now to know not to completely trust him when he's smiling.

"Are you really telling the truth, Daddy?" I asked. Dad looked a little sheepish then. I could see the thoughts in his head. And then I knew that the people who called me a bobble-headed baby - including my Mom - were not being very nice. In fact they were being a little mean. And here I thought that being bobble-headed was just another way of saying I was cute. Well, I'm not going to be self-conscious about it. I look how I look and that's all there is to it. I mean, everyone would bobble if their backs weren't strong enough to stand.

2002-10-23T10:22:00.000-04:00

It isn't much fun being Outside any more, and that's a scary thing.

As far as I've ever seen, the Outside is always enticing. Sometimes it's breezy, other times it is hot. It's warm when the sun is out and a little cool (or even chilly) when the clouds are covering the sun. Occasionally it rains, and that's a good time to go from being Outside to being Inside.

But lately Outside has been changing. It's more often cloudy than sunny now, and the clouds bring cold with them instead of coolness. The breezes were gentle before, but now they cut into me like an icy knife. Even more alarming is that when it's sunny out it's still quite cool. It used to be that Mom and I would walk around the neighborhood or the area around her work in nothing but a onesy or my regular outfit with feet. A few weeks ago I started to need a blanket around my feet because I was getting cold as we walked around. Last week I needed a blanket around my top too! Mom has started to put these big bulky pieces of clothes on me called "sweaters" in hopes that I won't get any sicker than I already am. And with the Outside being so consistently cold recently I think she's doing a good thing.

Even more alarming than the coldness, however, is the darkness. I always thought that night time was for sleeping and day time was for awake. But recently the darkness has been creeping in earlier and earlier and it's been sticking around later and later in the morning. It used to be that I would wake up at first light and be able to spend an hour or two with Mom before we headed in to work. Now I wake up at first light and Dad feeds me a bottle for a few minutes before Mom and I rush out the door. I'm pretty sure that Mom isn't leaving any earlier. That must mean that the darkness is staying later.

The cold and the dark make me think that there's something really wrong with the world. Why is it leaving the spot where it was sunny and warm and going to a spot that is cloudy and cold? What's making the cold, anyway? I feel warmer when the sun is out. Is there an anti-sun that makes cold? Is the world going into a refrigerator to keep it fresh like my formula does when Mom makes too much? Will I ever want to go Outside again?

2002-10-21T08:15:00.000-04:00

I have this thing. This persistent, annoying thing. It's sitting in the back of my throat. Sometimes it decides to take a little trip and heads into my nose. I've tried to get it to go away. I've tried to sneeze it out into the cold, cruel world. I've tried to sniffle it down into my gut where it will drown in formula. I've tried waiting it out. I've tried crying at it to go away. But I still have this thing. This cold.

I don't know who to blame for giving me this cold. I wanted to blame Cousin Shannon, but I haven't heard through Mom and Dad that she has a cold too. So it might not be her. I want to blame Dad because he has the same cold as I do. But he says he got it from me. I don't have the energy to argue my case right now, so I'll concede that maybe he isn't the culprit. The most convenient people to blame are the other kids at Patty's, since they all have colds too. But Patty doesn't know if they are the ones who gave it to me or if I'm the one that gave it to them. So I'm back where I started: miserable with no one to blame for my misery.

The cold bothers me at night when I can't get back to sleep because I'm distracted by this growing goo in my nose. I can still breathe around it (unlike the goo incident from a month ago) so it's not catastrophic. It's just really annoying. I can't eat properly because sometimes one side of my nose is clogged. It's hard to breathe through one side of your nose while eating a bottle full of icky formula. Sometimes it gets to the point where I need to spit the bottle out for five minutes while my head clears - even though I'm still hungry. It's not nice. Not at all.

Then there's the cough that goes along with the cold. It's like a tickle in the back of my throat that won't go away. Occasionally it feels like there's goo in there too and it tastes a little funny after I cough. Mom set up this machine in my bedroom that spews out warm, steamy, smelly air that helps a little at night. At least the cough goes away. She also has been making me slurp this awful "cherry" medicine. I don't know what cherries are, but if they all taste this foul I never want to taste them for real. I'm hoping that all of this helps the cold go away. I'll do whatever it takes. I hate this cold.

2002-10-17T23:07:00.000-04:00

Ever since I came home from Grandma Tigger's and Grandpa Bert's Mom and Dad have been calling me "rotten". I know I don't like that. I'm feeling all on edge because I got a cold on the last day that I was at Grandma Tigger's house and I've had the sniffles and a cough ever since coming back. I'm sick. I'm not rotten.

Sunday started with me and Mom going with Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert to church. This church wasn't like the church that Mom sometimes takes me to. Our "usual" church has long benches that people sit on and kneel next to and stand in front of. Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger's church has chairs the people sit on instead of benches. Whenever I go to church with Mom she tells me to pay attention because I might someday need to remember what the person is saying. But it's so hard because either the person's droning puts me to sleep or I notice a lot of interesting things about the people around me. This held true in Grandma Tigger's church too. I was so bored by the person talking that I started to fall asleep. I think that Uncle Kevin noticed this because right around the time I was snuggling into a nice dream -WHAM- a giant blast comes from the piano that he's playing. I was so scared that I nearly jumped out of my seat!

After church we came back to Grandma Tigger's and Grandpa Bert's house. I guess that a lot of other people thought it would be good to come home with us, because I saw all of my Aunties and Uncles and Cousins that are on Mom's side of the family that afternoon. Cousin Tom and Cousin Kerry-Ann ran around like demons. They played tickle games with their Dad (Uncle Kevin) and Miss Stacey. They also got dragged across the kitchen floor by my Dad. I hope he doesn't drag me across the kitchen floor like that! He could pull out an arm! Cousin Shannon was there again and everyone compared me to her again. It seems that she's sleeping a long, long time during each night. I think Mom wants me to do the same. I told her that sleeping over 12 hours in a night is unnatural and I won't do it. That made Mom cry. I don't care, though. Cousin Shannon is missing so much by sleeping so long. Mom and Auntie Kristen made me and Shannon touch noses while we were together and everyone marveled at how cute that was. I know I was cute, but I think that maybe Cousin Shannon gave me my cold, because soon after they made us touch I started feeling a tickle in the back of my throat. Now I'm coughing all the time. Bad Cousin Shannon! Bad! Bad!

Auntie First and Auntie Jill were there too. But they left after just a little bit of time. I think maybe they didn't want to be around us babies and the other kids. We were just too cute, perhaps.

In the evening Mom and Dad and I went out with Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger to a restaurant. I was very good for some of the time. But then I realized that no one was paying any attention to me at all. And I was hungry. So I did what any normal person would do - I asked for someone to hold me and feed me. Mom told me later that maybe I was a bit too insistent, as the people behind us and all around us could hear me crying for my food. And Grandma Tigger mentioned something about "cute" and "rotten" in the same breath. I don't know what to say. I was hungry and needed a change of scenery. Once I got my food and was passed around the table (as I am with Kim and her friends when we're in the cafeteria on Wednesdays) I was fine. No problem. I even gurgled at Grandma Tigger to try to get her to take back the "rotten" crack.

Remember when I said I didn't want to take a long drive like the one to Grandma Tigger's and Grandpa Bert's any time again? Well, Mom and Dad are trying to drive me crazy because on Monday they put me in the car seat and we started driving and driving and driving. I slept for some of the time. But when I woke up I needed my hands held. Thankfully, Mom figured out how to get from the front seat to the back seat without needing to stop the car. So Dad got to continue the drive in a speedy manner while I got to have my hands held. It's a win-win, I think. Even though Dad sped along for a while we did get stuck in traffic again and we ended up getting back home well after darkness fell. Even so, it was really nice to be back in my own crib in my own room with my own CD. Really nice. Now I've been back for 3 days and I still am so glad that I can listen to my CD in order to get to sleep. Even though going away and seeing people can be fun, it's just as much fun coming back home and finding all the things you didn't think you'd miss, but did.

2002-10-16T12:00:00.000-04:00

It's late at night and I'm kind of tired, but I want to continue to write about my time at Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert's house.

It was nice, after the long horrid drive, to be able to be out of the car seat and stretching my legs. I got plenty of time to stretch the night we arrived because Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert played with me and held me for a long time. Eventually, though, it was time for bed. Normally I sleep in my crib, which is quite roomy and solid. I also usually fall asleep listening to my CD, which plays soothing classical guitar music as I drift off to sleep. In Grandma Tigger's basement, however, there was neither a crib nor a CD player. Dad and Mom had set up my changing table which is normally downstairs in the empty book room and when it was time for sleep they put me in the smallish "bassinet" area that I've never been in before because it's usually under where I get my diaper changed. It was pretty strange to be there and not in my crib, but I was able to get to sleep for a little while in the new space. A couple of hours later, though, I woke up and got scared because it wasn't my normal space and I couldn't hear my CD and I was hungry. It was a triple whammy. I cried and cried. Mom walked with me for a while and was able to soothe me, but I was still weirded out by all of the strange things around me. My sleep was fitful until Dad gave me two bottles to eat, which filled my tummy and calmed me down considerably.

On Saturday I woke up and said "Hi" to both Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert. They and Mom and I played and had our breakfast at the table. Grandma Tigger kept telling me how cute I was. I smiled and said, "I know." People are always telling me that I'm cute. In the afternoon, after my nap, Grandma Tigger and Mom got out a small bowl and filled it with something that looked and smelled like my formula, only thicker. Then Grandma Tigger got a little spoon (a lot like the ones Mom and Dad use but much smaller and covered with some sort of plastic material) and started pushing the formula-like stuff into my face with it. It was a fun game for about 5 minutes. Grandma Tigger would push formula paste into my mouth and I'd take it with my tongue and push it back out at her. We did this over and over again. Occasionally some of the formula paste would go down my throat and I'd cough a little bit, but I tried as hard as I could to play along with the game and keep as much of the formula-paste going back at Grandma Tigger as I could. This game quickly became tiring, though, as more paste went down my throat and the spoon kept coming and coming and coming. I started to try to get away, but Mom held me firm in her grip as the spoon put more and more paste in my mouth. After 5 minutes I had had enough of the game and started crying for some real food rather than this in-and-out game with the paste. Thankfully I got my wish or else there might have been some real trouble.

Our excursion on Saturday night was an event. Auntie First and Auntie Jill were having a lot of people over for dinner and I was invited! Mom and Dad and I drove over to Auntie First's house and threw ourselves into the crowd. In addition to Auntie First and Auntie Jill there was Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger as well as Cousin Brendan and Cousin Shannon. There was also a nice lady named Sandy and two fun dogs that sniffed me. One of them even tried to lick me! We also saw Uncle Tim and Auntie Kristen, but they weren't there for very long. As happens at many parties that I go to, I was passed around from person to person throughout the night. But Cousin Shannon was also passed around from person to person. It was difficult not being the center of attention and having to share the hugs and holds with someone else. I started getting tired and hungry and little cranky during dinner and not being held in the right way by the right person was starting to piss me off. I could only take so much of people ignoring my needs and I was hungry and tired and I need need need NEEDED TO BE TAKEN CARE OF RIGHT NOW!!!

Sorry. I got a little worked up just thinking about it. Sometimes that happens. I am going along happy as can be and then I suddenly get angry about something or another. It hits me at random times but it usually involves my stomach being empty. I'm trying to get better, but it's hard. I think that on Saturday I might have gotten someone mad at me, because when I came back downstairs after Dad had taken me away and fed me I was told that I really wasn't rotten after all. From then on throughout the rest of my stay at Grandma Tigger's and Grandpa Bert's people were telling me I wasn't rotten. It was confusing. I never heard that I was rotten. I'm cute, remember? Not rotten. We all have to cry sometime. My cries just happen a little more quickly than others do.

I'm really so tired now that I can't continue dictating to Dad. I'm going to leave him to edit the diary (check for those spelling and grammar mistakes, Dad!) and go to bed. But hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to continue telling about my weekend with Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert. Sunday was really exciting, so I hope I don't forget anything while I'm playing with Kim and Christine tomorrow.

2002-10-15T09:00:00.000-04:00

There is so much to tell that I don't know if I can get it into one diary entry! I can try, but Mom has already given Dad and me a ten minute warning before I have to go to Patty's house. So I'll try to get as much as I can out about my visit to Grandpa Bert's and Grandma Tigger's house.

I have to set the stage properly, as I might forget this some day. Nana and Papa's house is far away. It takes almost an hour to get there sometimes. I knew that Grandma Tigger's house was farther away than Nana's house, so I figured that maybe it would take two hours to get there. I can do two hours in the car now. But Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert's house is much farther away than 2 hours. A lot farther away! So far I don't know that I could count the number of hours it takes to get there. All I know is that when we left our house it was morning and it was light out and when we got there it was dark. That's a long time!

My trip started with an unexpected visit. We were in the car, driving along, and after 2 hours we stopped at a house. I thought that it was Grandma Tigger's house since we had been driving for 2 hours, but instead we were at Dad's friend Deane and his wife, Julie's house. A few weeks before I came along they had a baby named Robert, so we all visited them and said, "Hi". I sat around and talked with Robert and Deane and Julie for a while. They were all very nice, and I learned from Robert that his Mom hasn't forced him onto more formula and less milk. I think my Mom should follow his Mom's methods and give me more milk. Or something else that's sweet.

Soon we were back on the road, where we stayed until after dark. Sometimes we went really fast. Sometimes we went so slow that Dad was starting and stopping every other second. Most of the time I was looking at gray skies and a rain spattered window. I slept for a lot of the time and we got out of the car at this place with a lot of other cars a couple of times so we could all stretch and eat. Sometimes I got confused about why I was still in the car seat and started to cry, but Mom came back and sat next to me and I felt much better. I think it might have been all worth it because we got to see Grandpa Bert and Grandma Tigger at the end off the drive. I just didn't want to have to got through all of that again any time soon!

Grandma Tigger and Grandpa Bert were very happy to see me and Mom and Dad. They played with me and Grandma Tigger sang to me and Grandpa Bert entertained me by making funny faces and jumping around like a monkey. I know what monkeys look like when they jump around because Mom and Dad call me a monkey when they bounce me in the mirror and Grandpa Bert looked a lot like that.

Mom is shuffling us out the door now, so I need to wrap up this diary entry. But in my next one I'll tell all about my visit and the exciting things I did while I was there. I can't wait. I hope I don't forget!

2002-10-09T17:24:00.000-04:00

Stinky Daddy made me go to Dr. Meany and get a bunch of shots! Maybe I don't like it when Dad is home to take care of me after all. I cried an awful lot when I got the shots, but luckily I remembered how to make the pain go away from the last time Dr. Meany pricked me with his big evil needles. So I ate as much as I could and took a big nap so that I could sleep through any of the stabs of pain that came as the venom from the needles worked through my system.

Bad Daddy! Bad! Bad! Bad!

2002-10-09T12:15:00.000-04:00

I like being home with Dad on some days. It gives me time to sit with him at the computer and dictate my diary without needing to worry about when bed-time is.

I tried to get the dream with Mom or Dad holding my hands to come back often a couple of nights ago and it did for a while. However, it ended up backfiring on me. During one dream, I got Dad to come and hold my hands but then the dream sort of fizzled and popped and I was left alone without Dad or Mom or anyone. I tried crying in my dream to make Dad or Mom come back to me but no one came. The dream started to dissolve around me and I realized that I was crying in real-life as well as in my dream. And still no one was coming to see what was wrong! I cried for a long time. Sometimes I was almost able to get back to sleep but then I remembered that my dream Dad didn't come hold my hands and give me a pacifier. I was afraid to go back to sleep in case it happened again. This made me stay up even though I was still tired. I cried and cried and cried. No one came.

Finally, Mom came to see what was wrong. She picked me up and brought me into her bed and gave me something to eat. That was nice. While I was eating I resolved not to try to get the dream where Mom or Dad holds my hands to come back again. It's too much torment when the dream doesn't come. If I have to make myself unhappy in order to get a happy dream and the happy dream doesn't arrive I just get even sadder. I don't need that. I'll just let the dreams come as they will and if I get a happy one then that's great.

Dad just told me that we have to get ready to go somewhere so I need to wrap up this entry. I hope it's somewhere nice and fun with lots of men to smile at. I love smiling at nice men. They're so dreamy!

2002-10-07T09:04:00.000-04:00

I've had a dream almost every night for the past week. It's always the same dream and it's a nice one, so I want it to come back as often as possible.

In my dream I'm not very happy. It doesn't matter why I'm not happy. Sometimes I'm unhappy because I am hungry, others because I'm bored, still others because I want to suck on something and there's nothing there. Like I said, it doesn't matter why. In my dream I start to whine and cry a little bit because I'm unhappy. Occasionally I cry out with a short, sharp yelp. Other times I wail a little bit. Often I flail my arms to get someone to hold me. I'm very unhappy. Then, in my dream, Dad appears. Or sometimes Mom. But usually Dad. He gets me a pacifier and lets me suck on its soothing nipple. Then he holds my hands, which calms me down even further. Since I can't flail my arms in my dream any more I think that someone is holding me tight and I can relax. I can feel the unhappiness wash away.

My dream makes me feel calm and secure. Dad or Mom is always there for me in my dream. They help me to stay a happy baby and soothe my fears. It's a great dream. As the dream fades away I know that I can sleep securely since they are there.

But then, a couple of hours later I dream about something else that makes me sad. It's different every time. Sometimes I can't go outside. Other times Patty's dog is yelping too much and driving me crazy. Every time I have a sad dream I think about my happy dream. "I wish Dad were here to make things better," I say to myself. So I wish the good dream to come. And that starts the good dream all over again. Ahhh... sweet bliss. Dad (or sometimes Mom) is here again and is holding my hand and putting the blessed nipple in my mouth.

When the dream first started happening, I would see Dad maybe once or twice a night. But I need the dream now. I want to have my hands held and I want to suck on the nipple. So I've started to see if I can make the dream come faster. Admittedly, this means I have to go through a bad dream first. But that's OK because my good dream is so good.

Last night I was able to make my dream come every hour or so for the first half of the night. Then I tried to make my dream come mid-way through the night and Mom actually came and woke me up to feed me. "I don't want food, Mom," I said, "I want someone to hold my hands in my dream." But Mom didn't understand what I was saying. Maybe she was too tired. Anyway, every time I tried to get the dream to come last night I woke up in bed with Mom rather than having Dad come to hold my hands in my sleep. This actually made me cranky because I didn't really want to wake up. So Mom tried to walk me around and rock me back to sleep. Once I got back to sleep I'd try to start to have my dream by getting unhappy and Mom would just wake me up again. How frustrating!

I'm going to try to have my dream as many times as possible tonight. Maybe I can have a dream where Dad is always there holding my hands if I get unhappy. Oh yes, that would be the best dream of all!

2002-10-04T09:12:00.000-04:00

These people are messing with my schedule again and I'm not sure I like it.

This week has been all messed up almost from the start. On Monday I went to Patty's house and everything was just fine. We had a grand old time playing and going out. It was just like always. But on Tuesday the madness began. Instead of Mom driving me to Patty's house, Dad drove me there. That's a first. It's never happened before. I didn't know what was going on, but it didn't really make me worried. After all, I was still going to Patty's house for the day. We were going to the library, like we do on Tuesdays, and I was starting to eye the bigger kids with envy. I really do want to stand up.

Everything came flying apart on Wednesday. Instead of going in to work with Mom and seeing Kim and Christine, Mom and Dad and I stayed home all day long. Don't get me wrong, it was nice - but it was very weird. I almost thought that it was a weekend because everyone was home. But we didn't go out anywhere, so it really wasn't like a weekend at all. Yesterday was Thursday so I thought that the madness would end and that I'd be back at Patty's house, my schedule in tact. But that's exactly what didn't happen. Instead, Mom left me here with Dad all day long. I slept through the morning and woke up happy. Then, after I ate, we went to the mall and picked out presents for Mom's birthday. This was a fun, but mildly strange, way to while away an afternoon. By the time I got home, though, my schedule was totally out of whack so I didn't know if it was hungry time or tired time. I've been even more confused by that lately as the sun seems to be going down earlier and earlier in the day. So when I think I should be sleepy (when the sun goes down) I am really hungry. Even the sun is conspiring against my routine!

So today I'm sitting at home helping Dad type my diary wondering where I'm going today. Will I be at home with Dad? With Mom? Will I go to Patty's? To Kim's? I don't know. Mom is getting dressed so I guess she will be going to work. But will I be driving with her? Oops! I've just been told to wrap up this entry as I have to get into my car seat for a ride. I guess I'm not with Dad today, but will Mom pull a fast one and not bring me to Patty's? She's being closed-mouthed about what's going on so I have a sneaking suspicion that my schedule is still shot full of holes.

2002-10-02T11:35:00.000-04:00

There are so many things that I really want to do, but for some reason I just can't.

First on my list is sitting up on my own. I like sitting in Dad's lap and watching TV or sitting on the floor with Mom holding my back for support while I play with my toys, but no matter how hard I try I can't figure out how to get from a lying position to a sitting position without help. I don't think that it's that my muscles aren't strong enough. I can hold my head up and look around from a sitting position and I can also sit straight up. I think maybe it's a matter of tying together all the little things I need to do to sit up. I know there is a bending of the back involved and a rippling of muscles. I just can't figure out exactly which muscles go where and what part of the back bends.

Next on my list is balancing on my own. I think this actually ties to both sitting (described above) and standing (described below). No matter what position I am in I can't quite get my balance just right to stay where I am without falling over. It's like the world gets all wavy and I need to have a rest. I know I can balance better when I fling my arms out - but sometimes this causes me to stay up and other times I fall down even faster. Besides, I look silly when I stick my arms out and try to balance myself. I flail.

Finally there's this standing thing. I want to stand. I see the big kids at Patty's house all day standing and sitting and playing and running and I think to myself, "I can do that." I know I said a couple of months ago that I thought the kids running around like little idiots were crazy - and I still do - but I want to have the option of standing on my own or maybe walking to pick up a toy that I accidentally flung across the room. I don't want to run and be crazy. Just balance on my own two feet. If I could do that then maybe I wouldn't need to always go where Mom and Dad go. Maybe I could choose my own path or (maybe) even go in the other direction altogether! It all starts with standing. And I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

Mom and Dad and Patty and Kim and Christine all help me with these three things whenever they can. Dad has taken to grabbing my arms and sitting me up by pulling. I think this is helping a little, as I'm starting to figure out more of the dynamics of back movement. Mom helps me with the balance by propping things behind me when I'm sitting so I learn not to fall. And everyone helps with the standing thing by playing with me on a table or a counter or the floor and supporting me while I stand for as long as I feel like it. But I want to do it on my own. Mom and Dad have something they say to each other sometimes: "Me do". That's when one of them do something that the other could help with but the first one doesn't ask for the help. Well, when it comes to sitting and balancing and standing I want to do it on my own. Me do!

2002-09-30T11:04:00.000-04:00

Nana thinks I hate her, but I really don't. Honest!

When we go down to Nana and Papa's house I have to be cooped up in a car for almost an hour just to get there. So I'm not always at my finest upon arrival. As I've noted in this diary before, I don't much like car trips but I'm learning to tolerate them more and more. Even so, an hour in the car is enough to try anyone, including me.

When Mom and Dad and I get to Nana's house she always wants to hold me and talk to me. But I don't always want to be held and played with and talked to right away. Sometimes I need some time to adjust to the house and the noise - have I mentioned that whenever I'm at Nana's and Papa's one or more of my cousins is almost always there running around making a lot of noise? And they all want to pull at me and pet me and make me happy. But sometimes that's a bit much. So, when this happens, I cry. It's just a coincidence that I'm usually hitting a point where I'm crying just as I settle into Nana's arms.

Last night Nana and Papa came to my house. I had just gotten up from a big nap and -*poof*- there they were. I wasn't totally awake yet and was just vegging with Dad when they popped in. So when Nana picked me up I was surprised that she was there. When I get surprised sometimes I cry. It's not tied to any person. It just happens. So yet again, Nana thought that I hate her because I cried when she picked me up. I settled down fairly quickly, though, and had a nice meal with both her and Papa.

Mom and Dad went away for a few hours, leaving me with Nana and Papa. It was fun at first, but then they put me down on the floor to play with me. They said that Dad told them to do it, but I didn't want anything to do with playing, so I started whining a little and crying a bit to get picked up. "Who should Nana and Papa listen to most", I asked them, "the silly Daddy who hardly knows anything about good play time or the little girl crying on the floor to be picked up?" They agreed with me that the little girl on the floor knew what she wanted and I got picked up. That was great for a little bit, but picking up isn't good enough sometimes. I need more stimulation than that... like walking around the house or playing on the lap. Unfortunately, neither Nana nor Papa did it just right, so I started crying. But it wasn't because of Nana or Papa. For the past few days Mom and Dad haven't been giving me the proper stimulation either. And I've been crying for them even more than for Nana and Papa.

Eventually Nana realized something that even I didn't notice - I was getting kind of tired. When she told this to me I fought for a little bit but then I agreed with her. I was sort of tired after all. I had had meal time and play time. I needed sleep time again. So I went to bed and slept until after Nana and Papa left. I never got to tell Nana that I don't hate her and that she shouldn't take my crying as disappointment in her. No, it's just that I have needs and sometimes even I don't know how to meet them. When that happens I cry. It's coincidence that it happens whenever Nana tries to pick me up or hold me. Pure coincidence!

2002-09-28T16:38:00.000-04:00

I have been watching this game on TV for the past few weeks. It's called baseball and it apparently involves guys swinging big sticks of wood and then other guys running to catch a ball. Until last night I wasn't really sure how the game ties together based on what I was watching. Why is the guy swinging the stick of wood? How does that relate to the guy who is catching the ball. And what's with all the spitting? What changed last night, though, is that I got to see the game in person. And now I understand.

Mom took me on a long drive into the city last night. I always know when I'm going into the city because the smell changes from sort of grassy to sort of gassy. Maybe it's all the people on the street that are farting like I do that make the place so gassy. Or maybe it's something else. I'm not sure. But I was sure I was in the city again; even if the smell didn't clue me in the lights and additional people milling about would have cinched it. So I figured we were going to visit one of Mom's friends that live in the city or meet Dad for dinner as we occasionally have done before. I was wrong, though. We did meet Dad but rather than going to dinner we went into this giant building that not only felt like outside, but it was outside! I've never gone through doors just to go to a different section of the outside but that's just what we did last night. Amazing!

The place in which we found ourselves was huge. As far as I could see to the right and left there were seats and people milling around. Right in front of me as we came in was a big grassy lawn with dark brown dirt on it. And in the far distance was a giant green wall. At first I couldn't figure out what this was supposed to be, but then I saw nine guys run onto the field in funny looking clothes. And then there was another guy with a piece of wood standing in front of us swinging at a little ball. It clicked. I was seeing a baseball game! But instead of the quick-cut action that I normally see on the TV I saw the game as it is supposed to be seen - from seats next to the field.

It turns out the thing that ties the game (and all of those quick shots of swinging and running) together is a little ball that the guy in the center of the field throws at the guy with the wood. The guy with the wood swings and tries to hit the ball and, when he does, the other people in the field try to run after it and catch it. So the swinging and the running aren't separate events, as you would think from watching the game on TV, but rather are events that come naturally one after the other. It's a cause and effect thing. Like if Mom is holding you and you spit out the pacifier it falls to the ground. On TV you might see the same thing in quick cuts of Mom holding me, me spitting the pacifier out of my mouth, and then the pacifier bouncing on the floor. TV is like that. It lies. Or, at least, doesn't tell the whole truth.

The game was exciting at first, but then I got hungry and needed some food. So I stopped watching and had something to eat. Once I was done I played with Mom and Dad a little and watched the game for a little longer. But as I watched I noticed that without the quick cuts of the camera that TV gives me the game is a little boring. It's funny, but sitting in a seat next to the field (where you really get a sense of how the game ties together) is not as exciting as lying on the floor watching the game on TV. I wonder why that is? Did the people who make the game think, "hey let's make a slow game that is exciting in spurts" or did the TV people say, "we've got this slow game but I think we can speed it up with some fancy camera work"? I'll need to ask someone about that... but not Dad because he makes things up when I ask him heavy questions like this.

When I got a little fussy a couple of times during the game Mom took me for walks around the stadium. And on those walks I met all sorts of people. There were nice ladies and happy guys and little kids running around. But of them all, I liked the happy guys the most. They always smiled at me and I would smile back at them. They would wink and I would laugh. One guy, who was in the seat next to us, even had a big shiny ring that ge showed me. To me, the happy guys are just so much cuter than the kids or the ladies. I think that's why I like them the best. Mom accused me of flirting but I don't know what she means. After all, is it my fault that the guys like me so much and that they make me so happy? Or that they seem to like me more when I smile back at them? It's not flirting, I think, it's just knowing what a girl likes.