My Baby is a Bean Stalk

Britanny is an absolute giant. When you look at her around adults, she appears to be a small innocent baby. But the moment you put her next to babies who are easily months older than her you notice the difference. Let me make 1 thing clear: she is in no way a chubby baby. In fact there is often an obvious void at the front of all of her outfits. This occurs because Britanny is so long that she fits in the 6 month range of clothing (and has since she was 4 months) but cannot fill them out.
Let’s do some math. Britanny is in the 97th percentile for her height. 100 – 97 = 3 (inside we are all saying “why did I ever take high school math if all I do is subtract numbers from 100?) This number means that only 3% of babies at Britanny’s age are taller then her. Which says a lot! I’m hoping her growth spurt slows down, or else she will be the tallest non-mobile baby around.
Britanny’s height seems to put her in a very awkward spot in the nursery. All the 1 year olds seem to think that she is around their age, and therefore should be able to play alongside of them. Alas, all she can do is roll from one side to another (typically not all the way, she stops once she is resting on her side). This means that she often gets poked and prodded by other babies wanting to know why they are being ignored by the baby on the floor. She must seem like a defective baby to them. Here they are, some smaller than her, crawling around while all she can do is grab toys and shove them into her mouth. Such an alien concept to them!
Britanny doesn’t seem to notice that she is, in fact, a giant. All she seems to care about right now is the fact that while she has all the components of crawling down (moving your arms and legs) she cannot put them together in a functioning motion. And believe me, she spends hours trying to get this to work. So I’m not sure what is more saddening, that my baby is clearly taking after her Mommy and Daddy in terms of height or the fact that all Britanny wants to do is crawl, since she has no clear understanding of height. Im hoping that Britanny’s growth spurt slows down soon because I would really like her to stay in these clothes for a while- she should fill them out before moving up! If not, I may end up with a giraffe on my hands. Watch out everybody, Britanny is growing!

Being Caught With Your hand In The Cookie Jar

Or in this case, with the leaf of the plant in your hand. Britanny’s grandma Jen had a nice plant sitting in a vase on the counter. I say had because the vase existed until a few hours ago. At that point B grabbed the plant and tossed it onto the ground. There was a bang, and a wide-eyed baby looking around. Although she cannot talk, you could see that she was wondering what was going on. But we knew! She had pulled the plant trying to play with a leaf. Instead she threw it on the ground. If you had any doubts about the culprit, you had to look no further then Britanny’s hand. In it was a tightly grasped leaf- she was caught red handed.

Quite frankly I am surprised that this vase was the first thing that Britanny broke. This past month has been the month of pulling things out of Britanny’s grip. Anything that goes within a foot of Britanny's hands is in danger of being pulled and eaten. Dinnertime is the most risky, as she keeps reaching for the table cloth like there is no tomorrow. All she wants to do is hold all the dishes like a big girl. Unfortunately, as the vase so plainly proved, dishes should be scared of Britanny. It's only a matter of time before one of them ends up on the ground.

It's not that I don’t think that I can keep Britanny away from the dishes. It is the fact that I am extremely clumsy, and I know that this has been passed down to my daughter. We have lost many a dish to my hand-eye coordination (or lack there of). That’s why I keep non-expensive dishes around. I knew it was only a matter of time before Britanny’s clumsy gene kicked in. Today’s vase experience just confirmed that in my mind. So beware all breakables- the Gallea girls are coming after you whether we know it or not!

You Find Them In Your Socks

If you, like me, took off your socks after reading this title, never fear. I’m not talking about anything disgusting here, I promise not to branch off into the many strange places these things take you. For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, I’m talking about feet. We each come with a pair, and throughout our lives use them for various activities. You can walk with them, kick people with them, or even use them to pick things up! I have never particularly liked feet- in fact, I tend to find them slightly off-putting. Its not so much the fact that they are always on the ground that bothers me so much as the way they look. Call me superficial, but feet are weird! Obviously some people have much more attractive feet than others. Britanny’s feet are absolutely adorable, while other pairs of feet are somewhat less desirable.

There are two main applications of feet. The first is probably pretty obvious: we use them to walk around. Since that is so clear (and slightly boring) I am not going to divulge deeper into this application. The second application of feet is the ability to dress them up in cute shoes, and to showcase them with cute pants! I’m not biased or anything, I just think that everybody loves to accessorize their feet. You can’t always wear the right mitts to go with an outfit (its often too hot for them) but shoes are much more socially acceptable! Has no one seen the “no shoes, no shirts, no service” signs? We value shoes! Unless your Britanny, in which case you kick your shoes off more than you kick off your socks (which is a lot)!

Its too bad that Britanny doesn’t like to wear shoes, because I have so many different pairs of shoes that have been given to her. And they are amazingly adorable. When she does wear them you can’t stop from being amazed at how cute her feet are. Whenever I see her shoes I have the incessant need to put them on her and show her off. Unfortunately she doesn’t even make it out the door with the shoes on her feet. I will just have to wait until she is older before letting her wear shoes all the time. After all, she has to get used to shoes before she starts running everywhere!

Baby On Board

I hate driving in the city. On an open road, I have no problem. But in the city there are cars on both sides of you, threatening to come and smash you to bits at all times. This fear tends to make me a safer driver. For instance, I make sure to do a full stop at all 4-ways since I have seen dozens of people completely run right through the stop. I mean, its not that hard. But apparently people think that they can all go at once. Just because I am following the rules of the road doesn’t mean others are doing the same.

This brings me to my point. Driving in the city is stressful enough, but driving in the city with a baby is just over the top. There are times when it is peaceful (aka once Britanny has allowed herself to fall prey to the rocking motions of the car) but other times when I wonder whether the screams of the baby can be heard across the city. The car tends to put Britanny to sleep in the first 5 or 10 minutes of a car ride, but this sleep is fully dependant on the speed at which you drive. Britanny is our little speedster: if you drive at any speed lower than 50 km/h Britanny will instantly start to talk, as if to tell you that your speed is unacceptable. The slower you go, the more she starts to talk.

If you have ever driven with Britanny, you will begin to dread red lights. You know that the moment that the car stops Britanny will perk up to tell you to go. I suppose she doesn’t care about the rules of the road, as she isn’t the one driving. But I care. Especially since I would always like for us to arrive at our destination safely.

Whenever you stop driving and go over to see Britanny in her car seat, she ceases whatever she was doing (including crying) in order to whip out the biggest smile she can handle. Now this isn’t your typical baby smile. There is a clear subcontext to Britanny’s smile that says: “please, please don’t leave me in this wretched seat for another minutes. I promise I’ll be best baby in the whole wide world”. 

Driving with Britanny in the car is definitely a phenomenon. There are times when she is so quiet that you forget that she is there. And then there are the times when her screams are overpowering. I can only hope that one day Britanny will find the happy medium between the sleeping and screaming baby.

Packing with Britanny

You don’t pack with a baby, you throw stuff in the nearest box as quickly as you can because you know that in a few minutes your ticking time bomb will start screaming for your attention. Seriously, ours screams bloody murder.. for everything. Britanny screams for attention, for joy, for food, for playtime, for bath-time, for tears, etc. Needless to say, getting ready for our move has been a trial in and of itself. On a good day I can get 2 full boxes packed before the waterworks start- and on a bad one, I might be able to build the box before I get called away. That might be OK if I only had a few boxes to pack, but it feels as though the pile of boxes in the apartment is never ending.
That being said, I am a pro packer. I challenge anyone to try and pack better than me with a baby attached to their front. I am one with my Baby-Go (it is like a Snuggi). Its not easy to pack a box with a kicking baby glued to you. If you bring something too close to yourself, it will either be promptly kicked to the ground or grabbed by the “death grip”. Either way, you’ve got a fair amount of work trying to get your box packed.
I thought cooking with one hand was an impressive skill to claim (one that all mothers must master if they ever want to eat), but packing with one hand takes it to a whole new level! There should be a one-handed Olympics, in which mothers of all ages participate in one-handed activities. The list of “games” would probably include the following: cooking dinner; getting dressed; doing and folding laundry; working on the laptop (for work, school or otherwise); and obviously, packing boxes. I am certain that these would be as entertaining as the current Olympics- if you doubt me, go try and butter a bagel with one hand tied behind your back. Its not as easy as it looks!
I rest my case. Babies and boxes go together as much as dog sled races and the Bahamas. In other words, they don’t! So take pity on the next mother trying to pack up her place and giver her a hand. Because then there would be at least 2 hands helping out!

The Beauty in a Baby

Vincent van Gogh once said: If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle. While it is clear that van Gogh is saying many things here, one thing is clear. Babies may be the most miraculous beings that have ever walked the earth. 

Every morning I get woken up by a screaming baby- but the moment that Britanny sees me (or occasionally, Aaron) standing over her crib a huge smile creeps over her face. It is in that moment that you know you made her day just by waking up to spend time with her. She knows that we are going to love her, play with her and take care of her. Every morning Britanny wakes up with the knowledge and security that she will be looked after, no matter the problems she causes us, no matter how many times she screams in our ears. She has no knowledge of world issues- she just knows that we will look after her.

I think that this is one of the main reasons God has given us babies (besides the fact that they are our way of continuing our existence). Babies remind us that there is something more than our day to day lives- they have the extraordinary ability to see the beauty in everything! No one else can appreciate something as simple as a clap or ripping paper (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RP4abiHdQpc) than an infant. No adult has the ability to look at the sun the way a baby can, appreciating every single ray of light without a care in the world. They just understand that we should always take the time to appreciate the blessings that surround us each and every day.

Babies have the rare ability to look past the obstacles that life throw at us. They are completely untouched, able to appreciate everything that God has given us. Like van Gogh so aptly pointed out, it would be difficult to ignore God’s presence after seeing the miracle that is a baby. Science may be able to account for many things, but I just don’t see how one can deny the presence of God when you see a baby’s smile. There is no earthly explanation for the warmth created by a baby’s smile, and the joy found in a baby’s laughter. Children have the inane ability to touch the heart of every person, to allow them to forget their problems (even if it is just for a moment).

Britanny is the light of my life, and I cannot imagine living without her smile. All of her tears and screams are forgiven the moment she smiles and lets me glimpse at her care-free life. Maybe we should all take a hint from the babies and step back for a moment to appreciate the beauty before us. I think we would be surprised at what we would see.

The Toy That Never Should Be

I hate dolls. Always have, and probably always will. I just can not deal with them. I hate the way their beady little eyes follow you anywhere you go… its like you can hear them calling out to you “I am watching you- in fact, I never let you out of my sight. Muah ha ha ha ha….”. They are creepy little people who never sleep. They just sit there and stare at you, planning the perfect time to murder you and take over your life.
Ok, so that is probably not what goes on in a doll’s head (considering they aren’t alive this is quite possibly just a figment of my imagination). But still, I just can’t shake my fear of them! In fact, I am seriously bothered by the mere thought of dolls. As I am writing this blog my hands are shaking.  The mere thought of having a doll present in my home scares the living daylight out of me.
I can deal with many things, but dolls just push me beyond my limit. Stuffed dogs, bears, penguins and giraffes are all allowable toys in my books. They are cute, cuddly and soft. But most importantly, their eyes are not creepily following you around the room wherever you go. If I had my way dolls would never have been invented. Why do we need to create little tiny versions of ourselves to play with and eventually exile to a shelf?  I mean, no doll will be played with for years. A piece of LEGO is sure to get more playtime in the long run than the doll. It’s a though the doll knows that all it needs to do is withstand a few years of wear and tear by its little owner before it can take its “rightful” place on the mantel where it can watch diligently and creepily over the going-ons in the house.
All this to say- don’t you ever, ever dare to get my daughter a doll. It will be promptly destroyed and will never see the light of day again. You can buy her a stuffed animal any day. In fact, I welcome it. But should you be the unlucky person to help a doll cross the threshold into my home, you and your doll will suffer the consequences! You have been warned. Keep the creepy dolls far away from me.

Splashtime with Britanny

Bathtime used to be a nice, quiet time for Britanny. It was a nice, calm beginning to her bedtime routine (in other words, it set the ball rolling every night for the few hours of sleep continuously interrupted by a waking baby). That’s what used to happen. Not anymore- we now find ourselves with a baby who has discovered the joys of splashing. She doesn’t just splash with one hand or one foot. No, she does the worm in the water, causing all excess water to come straight towards her bather (ME!). You may enter the bathroom dry, but there is no way that Britanny will allow you to leave the bathroom without having been the victim of a tidal wave. The only time she is calm (or at least washable) is once she has the shampoo in her hair. I suppose she understands that any movement would result in shampoo in her eyes- something which no person would ever want, let alone a sensitive baby.
Although Britanny splashes right now, she seems to pick up skills rather quickly. You have to wonder what she will come up with next in the bath- where do you go after learning how to create a tsunami in your bathtub? Hopefully she will learn to play with her water toys, not how to soak Mommy from head to foot. Here’s hoping… 

Britanny Goes to Parliament

Otherwise known as “Britanny Loses her Socks Downtown”.

It was such a beautiful day today in Ottawa that we decided to take a family trip down to the Byward Market, and consequently, Parliament hill today. On this trip we did several things. We walked around Parliament, took some pictures, got a beavertail and some brunch. O, and we spent half the time searching the stroller and the ground for Britanny’s socks.

They seemed to have a mind of their own, choosing to fall off whenever was the most inconvenient for us. We took her out of the car, she was sockless. We went to pay for parking, she was sockless. We took her out of the stroller for a picture and (shocker) she was sockless. Just to make it clear, we are not bad parents. The moment we noticed her feet were bare we went on the hunt for the missing socks. By the time our outing was over, she had lost her socks at least a dozen times.

Now this is not the first time we have had such an experience with socks. In fact, I always keep a spare pair of socks in Britanny’s diaper bag for the time where we can not find the missing sock anywhere. It is times like these that make me question the purpose of baby socks (and shoes). Babies hate having socks on their feet! Not only do they hate the feeling, but they kick so consistently that the socks always end up coming off. There has never been a time when Britanny wore socks that they did not end up coming off within an hour of having socks put on.

Baby socks are like the worst person a sports team- they are going to be there no matter what, but you really don’t like them. They are the weakest link in the clothing chain- present to keep the baby warm, but ridiculous in every other sense.  If socks were on Survivor, they would have their torch put out after the very first day. The reason? They don’t contribute to anything!

Even with the trials and tribulations that came with Britanny’s socks, we had a great time downtown. Just because your sock hunting doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the sun.

The Baby Doll Phenomenon

As I was packing for the big move this week I came across one of Britanny’s hats, and so, like any diligent mother, I promptly put it on her head and fell in love with how cute she looked. Now I don’t often dress Britanny up for the sake of her being “cute”, but there are just moments when it cannot be helped. When I saw this hat I fell into the hands of the baby doll phenomenon. This happens when parents (mothers in particular) feel the need to dress their children in certain outfits in order to have them look like the dolls they played with as children. There is an unspoken rule that states that you are allowed to dress your baby up for the sole purpose of having them look adorable.

I am not saying that my baby is not beautiful without this hat, or her other “dolly” outfits. Its just that these outfits make your heart warm and put a smile on your face because of how amazingly cute your baby looks in them!