I’ve been neglecting this blog for 6 days.  Unfortunately, I have not been giving birth.

*  On Thursday evening, I fell.  Hard, road-rash style, stomach first, right in the middle of the road.  My darling, angel-pie Eirinn was running away from me and I was trying to run after her with my arms filled with toddler paraphernalia and I, being ridiculously front heavy, fell whilst in full speed.  I scraped up my wrist and palm, earned a giant bruise on my knee, but am otherwise fine.  The baby is also fine. 

Eirinn was a brave little trooper when this happened (we’ll overlook the fact that this wouldn’t have happened had she not been running away from me).  She immediately stopped running, flew back to me, screaming “Mommy, get up!  Mommy, don’t cry!”  I told her to go and get Babba (we were right in front of the house) and she did.  She ran up to the house like a big girl, banged on the door as hard as she could, yelling “Babba!  Mommy fell down!”

While I was in the washroom, cleaning myself up and poking at my stomach to make sure the baby was moving, my mom and Eirinn discussed the importance of her staying with me when we’re outside and holding my hand.  When I got out, Eirinn apologized and promised she will never run away again.

Even though it was her fault, I’m still proud of how she reacted.

*  The whole Tornado family went shopping on the weekend.  How is it possible that we exit Zellers, having spent $175, and the only thing for me was a $9.00 pillow?  That, my friends, is called Motherhood.  Oh, and don’t let me forget my share of bed sheets.  I retract my bitter sarcasm.

*  Eirinn has a new obsession.  She seems to just replace obsessions with new obsessions.  See the progression from Dora to Diego to Alice in Wonderland.  Now she dedicates her life to The Wizard of Oz.  Or “Wizaboz”, if you’d like to pronounce it properly.  She likes it best if you fast forward to the Munchkins and her favourite character seems to be the Tinman, because that’s who she asks for.  As in “Where’s the Tinman?” while eating breakfast this morning.  Um…in the movie.  Am I being punked?

She knows all the songs and will sing them to you or with you on cue.  Her favourite song is “The Lollipop Guild”, which tends to be neverending because the ending is kind of tricky and she usually just starts again at the beginning.

*  Eirinn is in Big Girl Underwear full time, except for bedtime and naptime.  She hates having to wear baby diapers to bed, but we insist because we’re not sure she’s ready to start trying underwear all the time.  Mostly because I’m not ready to stop using the baby gate at her doorway.  Although, she did wake up this morning with a DRY diaper, which earned her a great round of applause plus a big hug. 

*  I have been experiencing some pregnancy symptoms and side effects that I didn’t have the joy of experiencing with Eirinn.  It’s getting to the “adding insult to injury” stage here and I’ve just about had enough.  Ok.  So I had “had enough” about a month ago, but still.  If you haven’t been able to tell, I’m ready to be not pregnant now.

At 35 weeks, I am currently Googling “Performing your own c-section”.  Strangely and disturbingly, I actually found something…

Don’t move a muscle.  Don’t make a sound.  STOP BREATHING YOU’RE MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE.

Eirinn is currently asleep.  Shocker?  No, but what is a shocker is where she’s sleeping.  IN HER BIG GIRL BED!!!  Mind you, she’s only been in there for 45 minutes, but she hasn’t tried to escape yet.  And she hasn’t fallen out, which is also good.  I’m sure she’ll be fine because she has been very anxious to be a Big Girl.  Oh, except the potty training.  She thinks Big Girls should wear diapers for-evah.  But I’ll give her a break for a while longer.  One step at a time.

We have nearly finished her room and it looks awesome.  There’s just one tiny little project that is driving me insane and will probably be the death of me.  But as soon as we finish that, I’ll take pictures and show you around her new place.  It’s very pretty if I do say so myself.  Oh, and Anonymous Husband can have some of the credit, too, seeing as he was painting for two weekends straight.

Eirinn lawbs the room.  She has already given an enthusiastic tour to both sets of grandparents.

Do you know how expensive it is to create a Big Girl Room from scratch?  Really expensive.  First there’s paint.  Lots of paint because the nearly naked walls were very, very thirsty.  Then there’s furniture (a twin sized sleigh bed, bed side table, and dresser).  Then you’ve got curtains and the rod, the bedding, the lighting (ceiling and a lamp).  Then if you’re like me (and I think you are), you have to adorn the walls.  A clock, a fabric picture/message board and wooden letters to spell her name, in our case. 

After all that you check your pockets and realize there’s nothing left but lint and you still have a nursery to decorate in less than three months and oh, crap.

* Good news.  It’s now been an hour and she’s still asleep.

** You may now resume breathing.

***

UPDATE — Eirinn slept the whole night in her Big Girl Bed in her Big Girl Room.  THE WHOLE NIGHT.  This is huge people.  She didn’t cry, didn’t get out of bed, didn’t wake up more than usual (one little blip on the Perfect Toddler Radar at 5:45).  She did marvelously and she deserves a round of applause.  Go on.  We’ll wait.

Dear Baby Eirinn,

You are two.  My God, you’re two.  Two years ago today, I gave birth to you with Daddy by my side, all your grandparents in the waiting room, and Ellen DeGeneres on the tv.  Not that I was watching, the choice of programming was all your father and the doctor’s idea.  I was too busy, you know, doing the required birthing activities.  Two years may sound like a long time, but I can still smell the hospital smell, hear the hospital sounds, and envision the hospital room perfectly.  Especially the fold out instrument of torture chair your Daddy had to sleep in while I laboured away all night.  Kind of a fair trade, if you ask me.

One was an unbelievable year for you.  When I think of all you have learned and how much you’ve grown and who you now are, I can barely recognize that One and Two are the same Eirinn.  One year old you still toddled cautiously, spoke only a few English words but babbled on in bab-ese, and was as bald as a jaybird (nearly).  Two year old you runs as much as humanly possible, is fluent in English (there are just some words you haven’t tried yet) but with a strong toddler accent (which sounds like a mix of Irish and Brooklyn), and you are currently working on a full head of hair (”working on” being the operative phrase).  You know the alphabet (the song, not the letters), can count from 1 to 16 (with the exception of 13, 14, and 15, which are all 14 to you), can dress yourself in your outerwear, and can throw a temper tantrum like nobody’s business.

Leading up to two, you mastered sentences and are now telling us stories and relaying them in paragraph form.  You are learning about cause and effect, action and consequence, crime and punishment.  You are learning about these things but you have yet to allow such concepts to stick.

Skills we are working on, in a very non-boot camp type way:

• Colours.  Some days you know them, some days you don’t.  I think you know them perfectly and are just messing with Mommy and Daddy.  Maintain control by allowing the adults to believe they are still smarter than the kid.  Smart.  I like it.
• Potty training.  We’re still hoping against hope that you’ll show some sort of interest in the going diaper-free soon.  You’ll sit on the potty just long enough to warm your bum then it’s off to see how much toilet paper you can fire off the roll onto the floor before Mommy loses her cool.

And that’s about it.  I have taken a new laid back approach to my parenting philosophy (not that I’m laid back, I can throw my own temper tantrums too you know, but my philosophy is laid back).  We’re not pushing much onto you right now.  You are ahead of the pack developmentally and you are still above average physically, so we’re not worried about how you learn and how much you are willing to learn.  We also know that when you are ready to move forward with certain skills (*cough* peeing and pooping the proper receptacle *cough*), you’ll let us know.  We just hope you’re ready before June when the number of daily dirty diapers will increase exponentially.  We’re just saying, if you’re looking for the perfect Mother’s Day present, that would be it.

Two has a ‘tude.  Because you know everything, of course.  You know everything and you should be able to do everything and who are we to try to tell you otherwise.  This is mostly frustrating, but occasionally amusing.  Especially when you try to assert yourself but mispronounce just enough of the words to sound adorable instead of mean.  For example.  One of your most frequently used phrases is ‘I don’t like it anymore’ except you pronounce it ‘My don’t yike it neny-MORE.’  I’m sorry for laughing.  I know you were trying to be authoritative.

You don’t like it anymore because you don’t like anything anymore.  Well, anything that involves consuming any sort of mineral or nutrient.  Food can be rather offensive to you.  Unless it can be tagged “snack.”  Then it’s cool.  But if it’s only label is “meal”, then it’s a non-starter.  Even if you were perfectly content eating it, say, a week ago.  Or even ten minutes ago.  If it’s offered to you under the guise of “meal” then “my don’t yike it neny-MORE.”  Except for breakfast.  Like me, you eat 90% of your daily recommended caloric intake before noon. 

Two is also unbearably sweet.  Cavity-causing.  You often tell us you love us (’My lawb Daddy!’) without prompting.  And your hugs have improved tremendously.  They used to be a simple lean in with your head and the accompanying ‘aw’.  Now they are a simple lean in with your head and the accompanying ‘aw’, but they last much longer.  You greet us enthusiastically, with hugs and kisses and lawb, making us feel like we’ve done something right in this parenting biz and also letting us forget the aforementioned ‘tude.

I’ll miss One.  You were still a baby for One.  But Two will be fun (please God, let Two be fun) with your better grasp on language and proper behaviour (better, not perfect).  Because now you are officially a Big Girl, growing and learning everyday.  We’re about to get your Big Girl Room ready with a Big Girl Bed and your own mirror and everything. 

But when we sneak into your nursery at night, to make sure you’re all tucked in safe and snug in your crib with your soother where it belongs and your two ah-lankies by your side, you’re still our little baby.  Our Pumpkin.  And that, that won’t change no matter how Big a Girl you are.

Love Mommy and Daddy

ps — Sorry about the length.  I know Two instantly transforms your attention span to that of a gnat.  If I lost you somewhere around Ellen DeGeneres, skip down to the ‘Love Mommy and Daddy’ part.  It’s the only part that matters anyway.