Monday, January 29, 2007

Laughter can make your stomach hurt, right?

This kid just cracks me up.

I mean it.

While Jed was off with his friends in Maine for a four-day drunken reunion with his childhood buddies -- doing unspeakable things with raw sewage and soft-sided luggage (I'll say no more) -- we were at home trying to amuse ourselves.

Yet, even though I am usually exhausted by the end of the day, it always seems as if she's the one doing all the work.

We started off our adventures on Saturday by meeting my parents for breakfast in Chatham, where Annabel managed to Hoover something from everyone -- a little bacon from Amah's plate, a little ham from Mama's and some -- wait, what is he eating? "I don't want that" from Papa's plate -- not to mention scarfing down enough pancake and sausage from her own dish to make a trucker sated.

Next we stopped by American Pie (just because I can't resist the place) and Annabel informed me she would like to buy a present for her sister.

"Honey, you do remember that you're getting a brother, right?"

At which point, she looked up at me sternly and said: "I TOLD you I wanted a sister, right?"

Impassively, and without further comment, she put back the porcelain pig with purple glittery tutu and matching spangled wand and reached for the shrink-wrapped snake hanging from a revolving display nearby.

"He'll like this dinoserosaur. Let's get this."

Later, a trip to New York State Museum's Terrace Gallery carousel burned up another two hours of prime television viewing zombie-anizm. Lucky for me -- and her grandparents who came along for the ride -- she’s not too fond of the horses, preferring to take every spin on the stationary benches. I say this 'cause if anything can make me feel a little woozy it's a carousel horse and the mighty (unexpected) spin of the wheel. (Anyone else notice how fast those things go after it’s too late to get off?)

Next we proved multi-tasking is possible for toddlers (and expectant mothers) by going home and simultaneously baking sugar cookies and making dinner. The latter of which I can proudly say she managed to consume before the former.

But of course the BEST came at 8 p.m., when for some strange reason my stomach started to hurt in a worrisome kind of way that made me think if it didn't let up by morning I'd have to give someone in the medical profession a call and ask them to see what's what. I told her that my tummy, where the baby was, wasn't feeling too well and we had to take it easy and get ready for bed so I could rest.

She made a huge effort to climb into bed from the other side, saying she didn't want to hurt my belly. We read for a while and she quietly went to sleep 30 minutes later, in her own bed, with little if any protest.

In the morning she slipped into my room and peered at me with a worried expression.

"Is your stomach still hurting mama," she asked as if time didn't elapse during the night.

"No, baby, it doesn't. It feels a lot better."

Yup. She's a keeper.


BlogWhore said...

as always, u perfectly captured a beautiful moment in time.

maybe you should be sick everynight - for bed & bath.

Xdm said...

Oooh.. I dare say, we do neeed to know more about raw sewage and soft-sided luggage, given that the possibilities are limitless.

stefanierj said...

dammit. I did NOT want any more babies before I read this post. But now? A little girl? Maybe I'll think about that once the terrible twos are a distant memory.

toyfoto said...

Oh, well ok Siobhan. But those among you with a weak stomach, I implore you to please skip reading the following comment:

I'll preface this by saying about four years ago -- after the annual gathering -- the wife of one of the friends grabbed a Nalgene bottle from the cupboard, filled it with water and headed out to work. When she got there - half of the contents of the bottle consumed - she noticed some words written in Sharpie. "Piss off 2002."

That same friend, this year during the four-day drunk, apparently took a gigantic dump in the upstairs loo and didn't flush. One of the other "four horsemen," as they call themselves, got so ticked he gathered a bunch of plastic baggies and collected the fecal matter (vomiting once during the process) and packed said item into the man's duffel bag.

I have a hard time believing these guys have actually reached the age of maturity. Of course when I said What if "Jenny" (named changed to protect the innocent) opens that bag? Jed's jaw dropped open. "That would be the thing that would send me over the edge," I continued. "Knowing my husband's friends REALLY are fudge packers."

Andrea said...

Oh, that sewage and luggage story is priceless, sensitive stomach be damned.

Annabel is precious. I love the pictures where her nose is just a little scrunched up on one side.

Last night, Gabe said to me, "Mama, I have dinosaurs in my froat." I think he means that he's got a sore throat. So I gave him something to "keep the dinosaurs from roaring in there." It seemed to work.

And thank you for your comment on my post about Gabe's eating habits. I may have sounded more panicked than I really felt, but this has been an ongoing battle, and I just don't know whether or not to be worried. Our doctor, in one breath, isn't worried, but in the next breath isn't reassuring enough that he's totally fine. It's another reason I may be finding a different pediatrician. But your comments and ideas are very helpful. And for the record, Gabe made a happy plate last night for a sticker. Seems his excitement over earning stickers with potty training is spilling into an excitement over stickers period, and they hold more sway over him than they used to. Tonight, I'll see if I can't get him to make me another happy plate.

Xio said...


let's hope it was one of those sure-seal green+yellow = blue baggies.

:- )

gingajoy said...

lord! I love the picture of your girl up there (the second one). It says a thousand words--i think you need to make it your holiday greetings or something;-)

toyfoto said...

Gingajoy ... that's funny. I was thinking of digging it out next September 19th for International Talk Like a Pirate Day.