Utter Torture

A miracle happened .... And I'm not talking about the one where I conceived our second child.  No, I'm talking about the one where my 21 month old daughter finished nursing after less than 2 minutes, and then asked for her "special bed".  I would have fallen over from shock had I not been lying down.  I hugged her, told her I loved her, and then laid her down in her crib.  Quilla said "goodnight Mommy, love you" as if this was what we do every night. She is sound asleep in there now.
Hell will freeze over tonight.

So .... Yes, I am "with child" - 22 weeks to be exact. No "bun in the oven" .... This time it's a turkey.  I am due to give birth to our second precious little girl on November 22 -
Thanksgiving Day.

We finally finished the last leg of our "Texas migration" to our new home destination in Mission Texas in March.  I found out I was pregnant the day we arrived.  As I pulled in the driveway here just a few miles from the Mexican border, I thought surely this must be heaven.  Everything was so beautiful and green, and the air was saturated with the perfume of orange blossoms from the orange tree groves surrounding us.  It was gorgeous and intoxicating!   Then, just a few weeks later, I realized that this is HELL, because hell itself cannot possibly be hotter than south Texas. It has been over 100 degrees here for weeks! WITH humidity! And it doesn't cool down at night the way it does in California. I don't even remember it being this hot when I lived in Miami Beach.  I swear the pool water is warm enough to poach eggs in.

Mmmmmmm ..... Eggs.
Pregnancy cravings fully in tact.

Anyway.

With another baby due to arrive in just 18 (!) weeks, I thought it wise to start weaning Quilla, and I also started working on getting her to sleep in her own bed.  This decision was not made easily as I believe in co-sleeping and child-led weaning.  I had fully intended to nurse her  until she was at least two years old.  However, A couple weeks ago, I realized that at 20 months old she was still nursing 4 to 8 times a day, which is perfectly fine unless you also have a newborn baby that needs to nurse about 12+ times a day.  I also realized that Quilla has been a bit frustrated when nursing because of a decrease in my milk factory production.  Additionally, it has begun to feel pretty much like razor blades are slicing up the "factory outlets" as I nurse her due to all the fun sensitivities of being pregnant.  So, with a very heavy guilt-ridden heart, I began cutting back on the daytime nursing.  Cutting back in the day went easier than I had expected.  Her very busy toddler schedule and play dates with our new friends here helped tremendously.  She also recently began to sleep through the night pretty regularly, which made cutting out the 12am and 3am sessions obsolete.  After a couple weeks we were down to only nap time  and bedtime nursing...
And then Pandora's box got pried open and released into the house.
Trying to get my child to go to sleep without "boobie-time" turned her in to some sort of untamable wild animal.  No matter how much  I sang to her, rocked her, hugged & kissed her and held her, she could not be consoled.  It was awful.  We both cried.  Then I would have to nurse her anyway just to get her calmed down enough to fall asleep.  So after a few days/nights of torture, I decided that she is just not ready for this, and went back to my original plan to let her self-wean.
So, yes, it is nothing short of a miracle that my darling toddler slumbers peacefully in her crib right now after just a "sip" of milk.  I know that she understands that  the milk is "all-gone"' (until November)  and soon she will stop nursing all together.  It will be bittersweet .... Both a relief, and also a bit sad.   I will certainly miss this very special bonding time that nature has allowed me to share with her.  I'll just have to replace it with heaps of snuggles, cuddles, hugs and kisses.
Meanwhile, tonight I will sip cranberry juice from a fancy crystal wine glass and toast my small victory.  

Still Stinky

Now that my daughter is officially a toddler, long gone are the days of diaper explosions and laundry baskets overflowing with burp cloths drenched in regurgitated breast milk.
Thank heavens for small favors.
We have now entered into an entirely new era of stink.
Alas, these are the days when I find the container of yogurt that mysteriously disappeared 4 or 5 days ago (while a high chair was being wiped down and put away) in my new leather boots by the door.  Ah, and what IS that green furry thing in the tiny compartment of her activity table? ..... Oh, just an old stow away otherwise known as the rest of that teething cookie she was cutting that molar on last week.
Instead of breast pads that reek of stale milk, I am now adorned with unique peanut butter clips that hoist one's skirt up in a less than modest fashion created from that wonderful pb&j embrace I was granted after lunch.  Bless the elderly woman at the store who clued me in on the fact that my "bloomers were showin".  Humph!
..... And let's not even try to explain how one gets a Cherrio out of a dreadlock. Long story.

There are others in the house that smell less than "fresh" as well.  Quilla has recently singled out a sweet little French rag doll with pink bows in her hair that we refer to as "Coco."  Coco goes with us EVERYWHERE.  She even has a place at the dinner table now next to Quilla where she enjoys a meal of plastic banana and wooden broccoli.  We thought this was sooooo precious until we realized that Coco is also an avid swimmer.  Coco likes to take frequent dips in the dog's water bowl, Quilla's sippy cup, Mommy's water glass if left on the coffee table, the bath tub, the puddle on the shower floor, the dirty water that collects on the inside door of the dishwasher as I load it after dinner, the mud puddle in the driveway next to the car, the puddle in the parking lot at the store, the puddle ANYWHERE, and of course ..... Yes, the toilet.  Soooooo ..... Unbeknownst to my 16 month old sleeping beauty, Coco also takes a  swim in the washing machine while Quilla takes her afternoon nap.
I think I may need to find a Coco clone or two.
At the end of some days I am too tired to wait until Quilla goes to sleep to do my own night-time ritual.  So, sometimes I slip into a bubble bath with her, and we play with her bath toys until the water is nearly cold and our toes look like raisins.

It was all fun and games until she recently learned to say "potty" with sheer delight and accomplishment every time she "tinkles".
Of course, it HAS crossed my mind that during our family bath time she may occasionally relieve herself somewhere below the floating safari animals and tug boats. Well, what I didn't know, didn't hurt me until last night when Quilla smiled sheepishly and admitted "potty" as I was showing her how to blow bubbles in our bath water.
Rinse, lather repeat.  Rinse , lather, repeat!
Yup! There is an altogether new stench in the house.
I am sure that this phase will one day come to an end and lend itself to even more stinky opportunity.  We recently visited a friend who has a 2 year old daughter who is nearly potty trained.  While we were there, she soiled her new "big-girl-panties" which she discarded along with the rest of her outfit in a corner of the house somewhere just prior to streaking through the living room with a somewhat ummmmm ... Chocolatey bum.
I guess this is what I have to look forward to.
Lovely.
I am forced to question my own sanity as this ex-neat-freak (yours truly) would love nothing more than for Quilla to one day have a little brother or sister to play with.
Where's my hand sanitizer?

Bittersweet Brilliance

Quilla is one smart cookie.  I am sure every parent feels this way on a moment to moment basis as their child all of the sudden morphs into a little person from his or her infantile stages.  At 16 months, my daughter has a vocabulary of 75+ words, 35+ ASL signs, walks, runs, jumps, dances, sings, and can do a somersault.  While her progress may be completely normal, it's insane when you think about the fact that only a year ago she could barely belch on her own without assistance.  There are moments in the day when I am in sheer awe of her genius.  Today was one of them.

Since we moved to Texas, Quilla has been exposed to a LOT of animals.  We are in the heart of farm country, so I'm taking advantage of our current resources!  Quilla and I have visited farms with horses, cows, chickens, goats, ducks, rabbits, pigs, ponies, donkeys, mules, turtles, llamas - you name it!  She can name at least 30 animals, and when she's in the mood, can imitate most of the sounds that they all make.  I thought I was so clever in my hands-on approach at this part of her education until this evening.

Quilla chasing geese in Mission, TX

I love dinner time.  I love it even more now that Quilla is not only joining us at the table (in her Inglesina chair) but she is also eating the same food that we are eating.  It's so nice to relax and enjoy our quality family time at the table instead of rushing about the kitchen preparing multiple meals for baby/the adults.  We all feed ourselves now, and it's quite civilized ...  Normally.

Tonight, as I placed one of Quilla's favorite meals (turkey and asparagus) on her plate, she promptly began throwing turkey bombs on the floor and said, "NO bak-bak Mommy"!
I can only assume she thought we were eating chicken (bak-bak) and she has (clearly) all-to-soon connected the dots between the chicken on the dinner table and the beautiful gray and white chickens she chased at a horse farm earlier this week. Guess I'd better thaw out a steak for tomorrow night - safer.  Shame I am no longer a vegetarian.  pfff!

After dinner I decided that instead of her normal swim in the claw foot tub, I would take a shower with her before bed since we both need to wash our hair.  When we finished, I stepped out first and then reached down to wrap her up in a fluffy towel, but she refused me.
"No, Mommy" she said as she squatted down on the shower floor.
"What's wrong my baby?"  I cooed at her.
"POTTY!" she said as she peered down at the liquid collecting around her feet while she simultaneously did the ASL sign for potty with her clenched little fist.
I don't think any parent has ever been so proud as I was in that very moment to have their kid pee in the shower.
Tomorrow she will build rockets for NASA, perform brain surgery, and cure cancer.

Her 1st adjective

Quilla has learned the word "boobie".
... not sure exactly how this happened since I have always referred to nursing as "milk" ... which she has been saying in sign language since she was 4 months old.
However, the last time I went grocery shopping she decided to exercise her command of this new word via tantrum in the cereal isle.
"BOO-BIE! BOO-BIE! BOO-BIE!" she chanted and pleaded with enormous crocodile tears as she tugged at my shirt from her seat in the cart.  With a somewhat crimson complexion, I quickly abandoned my shopping, and headed out with only half of my task accomplished.
So, genius Mommy that I am, I decided to "top her off" before heading into the store today to do a weeks worth of grocery shopping and avoid a repeat of our last adventure.  As I sat in the back seat of the car nursing her in the parking lot, she suddenly looked up at me and said "Mommy? Mommy! Mommy!"  
"Yes, Baby?" I said.

"MY Boobie." she said with a very smug little smile on her face as she gently patted the side of my breast while gazing up at me through the Mr. Snuffleupagus-esque eyelashes that frame her beautiful big brown eyes.
*sigh*
I'm in big trouble.  My 15 month old is smart as a whip, and doesn't miss a beat!
Still, the jury is still out on who won this battle of wits today as I DID finish my grocery shopping  without any further dramatic expression.
We both got what we wanted.
All is fair in love and war.