Monday, July 14, 2008
So Melora's skills with the pacifier, well, suck to be honest. I mean, she loves to have her nuk in her mouth, she just can't keep it there to save her life. Consequently, Michael or I are usually holding her pacifier in her mouth for her, or at least re-inserting it every 15 seconds or so. Here's what commonly happens when we let her try to keep it in her mouth on her own:
"Ahhh, my lovely pacifier is in my mouth; I think I'll contentedly suck on it.
Suck...suck.........suck...(long distracted pause)
Oh no! My pacifier is falling out of my mouth - I should hold it in there with my cute little hands.
Oh my goodness! My hands touched something - I should grab whatever it is.
Hey! Someone grabbed my pacifier. I should flail my arms so they don't take it away.
HEY! Someone took away my pacifier. How mean is that? I'll flail my arms harder in protest.
Ouch! Someone hit me in the eye with a pacifier. Not cool. Waaaaaaaaa!"
One afternoon, in a desperate attempt to get some lunch made for Isaiah, I actually used a Band-aid to attach Melora's pacifier to her cheek. It worked like a charm for about 10 minutes, and then she still somehow spit it out. I haven't tried it again because I feel it might somehow be a choking hazard. I haven't figured out exactly how it would be a choking hazard, but something tells me it just might be one anyway.
I have to admit I'm not always a huge fan of the weather in Minnesota, but despite that, I'm still so glad we live here. "Minnesota Nice" is not just a legend - it's a fact of life that helps me get through every errand I need to do on a given day. I took Melora into a convenience store to grab a few fountain drinks on a hot summer day. On the way in, a sweet new dad held the doors open for me and proudly shared that he had his first daughter seven days ago. Awww! Once I got inside Melora got wiggly and frustrated because she had gas bubbles, so I held her tummy-down in my arms with my thumb precariously holding in her pacifier while I tried to fill up our fountain drinks. It worked for a while, but I was unable to carry our giant drinks to the cashier while keeping in the nuk, so it fell onto the dirty floor. Another customer picked it up for me and handed it to one of the convenience store workers, who rinsed it off and sanitized it in the sink. Then another cashier opened a checkout line just for me even though she was on her break, and someone got me a drink carrier and helped me out the door. My conclusion was that I either live around some pretty great citizens, or I look like a pitiful mess who needs all the help she can get. Or maybe both.
We had a wonderful trip to the Black Hills to see my family this past week. We went camping with our two kids for the very first time along with my parents, and Isaiah loved it. Melora was also a pretty happy camper, which made the trip happier for everyone. We had a great campsite that was just a short jaunt away from a horse corral, which we walked to several times a day. One evening, we had walked to the horses to say goodnight, and Isaiah had his back turned to me. He sweetly said goodnight to a beautiful chestnut horse, and for fun I answered in my best horsey voice, "Thaaaaank yoooooou, Iiiiiisaiah." Isaiah didn't seemed surprised in the least that a horse had just thanked him and politely replied, "You're welcome, horse." Their conversation went on for a few minutes before we headed back to the campsite to laugh about Isaiah's horse conversation over the campfire.
After we got back to Minnesota, some friends of ours invited us to go to the Minnesota Zoo with them. Isaiah did well for quite a while, but while we were looking at fish, I decided to keep him strapped in his stroller to avoid a runaway/meltdown because I knew he was getting tired.
"Mommy, I want to get down. I want to get down, Mommy. Mommy! Mommy! I want to get down Mommy. MommycanIpleasegetdownMommypleasegetdowngetdownMommy."
Finally, I told Isaiah I would ask the fish if he could get down, and in my best fishy voice I answered,
"Sooooorry Iiiiiiiiisaiah. Yooooou have to stay in your strooooooooooller."
"Okay," answered Isaiah congenially, and I knew I had stumbled upon one of those great parenting tricks of the ages. A few moments later, though, Isaiah again asked the fish if he could get down from his stroller, and before I could open my mouth, Isaiah answered in his best fishy voice,
"Yeeeeeeeees, you caaaaaaaaan."