Who's your MAMA? That's right, me!

It's finally happened. I'm MAMA!!!! For about 15 minutes last night, while I was trying to eat, naturally, Colter walked around me shouting "MA MA MA MA MA MA." I replied, "MAMA? Who's MAMA?" And he pointed right to me. My heart just melted. I'm officially MAMA! I'm going to cherish this day because I know there will come a day when he's 13 or so and use the same word to tell me he hates me. I know he won't mean it but I better be prepared. I can hear it now, "but why? God Mom, I hate you." Ahhh, cherish today.

Letter to the Editor

Dear Colter,

Please, for the love of God and my sanity, stop touching...

the hot stove
touching and licking the garbage can lid
the dishwasher dial
the dvd's
the cd's
anything of Daddy's
any and all remote controls
unraveling and eating the toilet paper

I would appreciate your cooperation in this matter.

Love,

Mommy

Seriously...

Where the hell are the rest of your teeth?!? You barely had one in April, and you still only have those same cute little four front teeth and two bottoms. You holdin' out on us? Let's see some more chiclets! It's already autumn!

Check, check, check...1, 2, 3

Now that you’ve accomplished walking, running and climbing and added “bat (bath)” to your repertoire, it’s time to conquer the fork. I’ve been giving you the fork to play with while you’re eating for some time now. You love the fact that I’ll say “stab,” then playfully stab the fruit or stabable object and hand you the fork to put said object in mouth. You’re actually quite good at aiming for your mouth. You still have both eyes after all.

Last night was a turning point for you. You actually wanted to stab the fruit yourself and put it in your mouth! Unfortunately the fruit was a bit slippery and hard to stab, thus the frustration set in. Don’t worry little man, we’ll try again.

Favorite foods this week:
Peas, peas, peas
Raisins, raisins, rasins

New skills:
Putting the puzzle pieces in and screaming at the decibel of an airplane
Putting shapes into the shape sorter

Katrina, that bitch...

(The picture on the left was stolen from USA Today. The Bay St. Louis area was where the largest recorded surge hit at 22 feet. The cursor I inserted just to the right is where Mom's house is. You can find the entire map here at USA Today. Click map to make it bigger.)


Katrina, that bitch...at least, that's how Mom refers to her. Mom and Jim's house sits near a bay on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. They bought it in April of 2005, looking for someplace to stay for half of the year. We visited her in April by flying into New Orleans, which is about 60 miles west of where Mom lives. She's in a little division called Diamond Head right off of I-10, just across from the bay where Katrina hit shore. The town of Bay St. Louis is said to be 100% gone. Not too far from Mom, a few miles. They're in Bismarck right now taking their time headed south. Not much to hurry home to, much less a home.

Mom's preference right now is to get back, find nothing but the concrete slab on the ground, have the insurance pay off the mortgage and turn around and start somewhere else. Of course, no matter where you go, you run into the chance of something like this happening again. Florida? Too many old people and more hurrincanes. Arizona? There's already one giant meteor crater there, who's to say another one won't strike? The pacific northwest? Volcanoes. How about Montana? Earthquakes here and here (Google Satellite map of Hebgen Lake Earthquake).

Here's what the house used to look like:

Bay St. Louis is behind the house, across I-10 and only a mile or two away. With all the reports of the surge hitting up to five miles inland, don't think there'll be much left whenever they're allowed back in.

Oh yeah, they were just down there the 14th through the 20th getting some new furniture for the bedroom. Great timing for the looters...

Hershey, Nov. 1989 - Aug. 2005

I'm trying as hard as I can not to make those one of those maudlin pet obits that women in the suburbs seem to love to write so much, especially ones who never had any family of their own and you just know that they'll be found on the couch amidst piles of cat filth...

I had to take Hershey to the vet today. He left us just short of 16 years. One way to think of how long he was with Jennfier and I is that she got him just before she joined me in Sidney, Montana in March of 1990. That means Hershey's been from Minneapolis, to Sidney, Bismarck, Bozeman and back to Minneapolis again. I took this picture of Hershey this morning. I tried to get him and Colter together, but it was no go. His kidneys were failing him and he never really got used to his new playmate, Colter. He started to take it out on Colter a little lately and took to not just peeing in his room, but on his books, shoes and a few other things that were left accidentally laying about. Already weird not having him here.

Hershey: November, 1989-August 2005

And God spoke...

A conversation from last night...

"Colter, no touch."

(the boy repeatedly grabs at the garbage can liner and wants to pull at it)

"Colter, Mommy said no touch."

(the boy runs around the kitchen, grabs the garbage can liner and puts it in his mouth)

"Colter, what did Mommy tell you? No touch. Ish."

(the boy runs around the kitchen and, once again, grabs at the liner with his mouth. Why doesn't this ever get old?)

"Colter, do you want a time-out?"

(the boy looks at me, pouts his lip and whines. He runs away as the angels descend from the sky and the chorus begins to sing "Halleluiah")

Daddy and I look at each other. "Did you see that? I think it works!"

And For My Third Wish...

You’re just over thirteen months old now and I’m probably a bad mother for not keeping up your baby book. I think the last entry was somewhere in the month of June. Truth be told, I’m too darn tired. You’re constantly going from the minute you get up (6:00 a.m.!) until the minute you go to bed (8:00 p.m.). You’re running, climbing, exploring everything.

You used to say “car car” like there was no tomorrow but now everything is (while pointing) “this” and “dat.” You want to know what everything is. You’ll pull up your shirt and find your belly button and then run to mama and pull up my shirt and shove your little finger in my belly button and say, “dat.”

You don’t quite understand the word “no” yet. Actually, I think you understand but you think that “no” means “this must be something really good if I can’t have it,” like ripping the nightlight out of the wall (my little moth), trying to take garbage out of the garbage can, shoving farm animals into the VCR and pulling dirty steak knives out of the dishwasher. * I’d like three wishes now…#1 make me an octopus, #2 put eyes in the back of my head, #3 turn me into Super Nanny; that woman is a genius * You earned your first official time-out; one minute for touching the hot stove door repeatedly. Never mind you would touch the stove, be told “no,” laugh and then wait until the very second we reach out to move you, you’d run away. How old are you? Is this normal?

Some of your favorite things:
Monkey
Eeyore
Little People Farm
Peas
String cheese
Wheat crackers
Water (won’t touch juice)

Cos You Were all "Yellow"

Yesterday we took a trip to the Doctor. You’ve kept us up the last three nights in a row and you’re a nice shade of yellow. I was thinking the crying could be teething but upon further review with Diane at work, maybe it’s an ear infection. I’m officially a bad mother. I didn’t even think of an ear infection. You’re not tugging at your ear and it only happens in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. Don’t you know I’m already running on fumes at work? The yellow, I have no explanation. The only thing I can think of is it’s something to do with your liver and that scares me to death.

The diagnosis:

I’m officially an idiot.

You’re yellow because you eat too many yellow vegetables, mainly squash and carrots. I thought vegetables were a good thing. I guess we’ll just stick to the peas and green beans for now. No more squash/corn/chicken or peas/carrots or squash baby food for you little Mr. Now what are we supposed to feed you?

I asked about the temper tantrums; screaming, throwing yourself on the ground and chewing the carpet – normal.

I asked about not wanting to eat – normal.

My diagnosis:

We have a normal little Bart Man

A Little Boy, For Sure

Colter's a little boy, that's for certain. One the one hand, he did wait until his first birthday to get his first major scrape: a header into the patio door bottom edge.

side note: it was more "impressive" the next day

Happy Fourth!

The fourth of July conjures many happy memories for most of us, one of my favorites is the time between my junior and senior years in high school when my friend Bob Townsend and I were lighting bottle rockets off on a Missouri River sandbar by his house. The family's German Sheppard was chasing them and bringing them back. Yes, bringing them back before they exploded. No matter how hard we tried, she would manage to get ahold of at least two out of five rockets and we'd see them explode in Heide's mouth along with a mouthful of sand. *POOF!* was all we could hear. The first five or six times, we figured she'd give up, but no. That day Bob tossed a bottle rocket into the air that landed about 15 feet away from us...pointing up the sand hill. Bob wasn't fast enough to duck. But then again, Bob was never the fastest, if you know what I mean. The bottle rocket flew up the sand hill and smacked Bob right in the eye. I ducked. I got to go on vacation with my mom and dad (Bob was supposed to go with us) to Idaho and go whitewater rafting for the second time, and Bob got to go to the emergency room.

Not a happy memory if you think about from Bob's point of view. Ah hell, here's Colter trying to stuff his mouth full of as much watermelon as he can. Kinda like Heide and the bottlerockets and sand.

My Son...

Here's my birthday poirtrait of Colter.

Happy Birthday, Colter Jacob. I love you so much.

Daddy

Happy Birthday...though not a birthday suit.

I thought maybe I should post an actual picture of Colter from his first birthday. His treat that night was a carrot cake cupcake that the "What to Expect..." book assured us he would like. Turns out he didn't. Or maybe he just didn't like the cream cheese frosting, judging by the wince on his face when he tasted it. At least he had a good time destroying it on his plate.

Another Picture of Dawson

Here's a very good picture of my nephew, Dawson. This is from the Memorial Day weekend trip we took to Bismarck. Dawson, like his father, Kevin, likes a good smoked meat from Famous Dave's, but it looks like Dawson just discovered he has no idea how to order, since he's only a year old and thus, can't read.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Colter has officially been walking the earth for one whole year, now. He's actually been walking for about 3 1/2 months. We've had to totally refigure the living room since we couldn't block him into a small area where he could be loose. Now he's loose in the entire apartment! This has resulted in many new phrases being heard around the place such as, "Gah! Don't touch that! No no no no no! Put that down! Don't eat that! What are you eating? Get that out of your mouth!" and of course, "you're home, it's your turn to run after him."

Como Conservatory

We went to the Como Zoo and Conservatory on Sunday, and finally got some great pictures of Colter with his mommy.

Colter's Cousin Dawson

This is my brother Kevin and his wife, Paula's boy, Dawson. Dawson's little wings on his head are helping him to learn to walk. Dawson's six weeks older than Colter.

Colter After!

Here's the after picture. Colter's first haircut on May 22.
And he still has more hair than me!

Colter the Hippie - The Before Years

Colter the hippie...the before picture.

May Update

Oh my gosh! Sorry to delay the posts but I guess time flies when you're sleep depraved. Let's see, what has happened in a month? Well, Colter is...

Officially walking (not yet running but close). He got his first walking shoes. We went in to Stride Rite anticipating the early walker shoes. You know the kind, white, leather, up to the ankle. No go. His hooves were too big; size 6. The "pre-walkers" only go to size 4. So after picking up the toddler shoes, and the cute sandals that we just couldn't resist, we were off. He loves to walk on any surface that makes a lot of noise; wood floors, linoleum etc. He loves walking so much that it's his preferred method of mobility. When he crawls he can go a mile a minute now. It's frightening.

Pointing at things and saying "da!" He could point all day at light; sunlight, light bulbs, lamps. He also likes to point at Mommy's nose. I'm not sure if he's pointing out the zit on my nose or the fact that my nose is the furthest point from my face. Either way, thanks for pointing out my flaws son. It's still cute.

Saying his first official word! Is it "da da?" "Ma ma?" Nope. It's "car car." He loves the "car car's." He's also saying "go." Must be all of the "way to go" cheerleading we've been doing.

Shorn. He got his first haircut on May 22nd. Dad said he was looking like a hippie so off to the barber we went. He looks like a little "big" boy now.

Eating books like they're candy. I'm not talking nibbling or teething. I'm talking ingesting them! Pages, bindings, the whole lot. These are the thick books that are meant for teething but I'm sure they were'nt intended to be eaten as a meal. So far we've lost a "Stanley" book and a couple of number books. We decided to pull the reading selection from the toy chest for a week or two to see how it goes. We'll of course continue to read to him.

Other goings on: Colter visited cousin Dawsin, Aunt Paula, Uncle Kevin and the Grandma and Grandpa's in Bismarck over the Memorial weekend.

We went to the zoo on Sunday. Colter didn't quite get it but he got to get out in the fresh air, walk around and see people and "car car's" too. He was quite happy.

Until our next milestone,

Jenn