...oh, your baby has teeth

We just got back from a (perfect, wonderful, thoroughly enjoyable and relaxing) week-long family vacation. Bumble was an angel on the trainride, except for the last 15 minutes. She'd been good for hours and hours, but the ride was starting to get a little boring and she got fussy. Not screaming or anything... just whiny. Just when she started getting whiny, a large Russian man got on the train and sat in front of us. He was pounding back vodkas and speaking (in Russian) on his cellphone. Every time the bjaby started whining, he'd swear in English and pound back another mini-bottle of vodka. I started to wonder if he was playing a drinking game and then if he was winning or losing. Eventually, he changed seats-- maybe he was out of vodka so it was Game Over.

Anyway, the travel afforded me many opportunities to talk to strangers about the bjaby. Everyone likes a lady with a baby! (Except drunk Russian men on trainrides.) Unfortunately, I am not naturally outgoing and always feel very awkward chit-chatting with strangers. I want to be better at it though, so when I saw a lady holding her one year old while waiting at the train station, I thought it would be a good chance to practice not being a hopeless social misfit.

Sadly, this woman was just as inept as I am and what followed what the most painfully awkward conversation between two women holding babies ever. We were literally just pointing out things about each other's babies between long pauses. "Your baby has hair" "Your baby is tall" "Your baby has dimples" It was like one long, excruciating spot-the-difference puzzle. It went on for several minutes. There was no natural end to this conversation besides running out of differences. When we finally did, I was desperate to get away and I could see that she was, too. I very weakly said, "My husband must be wondering where we got off to... I'd better go find him. See you on the train!"

I did not see her on the train. That poor woman found a car several cars away from us where she could ride in peace.

WALK!

I asked Bumble if she wanted to go for a walk and she shouted WALK! This marks the third time she has coincidentally shouted a real word at an appropriate time. She really, really loves walks in her bjaby bjorn. When she sees me or Mike strapping it on, she starts wiggling and squealing with excitement. Once outside, I point out all the birds, butterflies, and flowers, but she is much more impressed by all the cars. She says "ooooooooooh!" every time one drives by. If a bus passes, the "oooooooooooh" is accented by jubilant leg kicks.

Too bad she's not as impressed with the inside of a car. There's a major meltdown in the car about 85% of the time we drive anywhere, so we walk as much as possible. This weekend we're traveling a lot by car and train, so here's hoping I can keep her happy and entertained. She prefers the train. She likes to look out the window and say "oooooooooooooh!" at the world as it whizzes by.

Forming the bjaby's delicate psyche

I want the Bumble to love and trust me. I want her to have absolute faith that I will always be there for her and give her unconditional love and support. I am quick to comfort her, I never leave her to cry, and I dedicate most of my time to playing with, teaching, and cuddling her. I just want her to feel secure, deep down.

And that's why it breaks my heart that she believes that every now and then, Mommy tries to kill her.

I have to wipe her nose. I have to! It's snotty and disgusting and she can't breathe! Does she see this as a favor, though? Absolutely not. She sees the tissue coming and she immediately starts thrashing and screaming as though I am trying to suffocate her. She looks at me with big, watery eyes brimming with the pain of betrayal. Her little bjaby brain doesn't make the connection that tissue=ability to breathe again.

This also happens every time I pull clothes over head while dressing her. She sees the clothes coming and she spazzes out, hrowing her little limbs everywhere. It only takes a second to pull the thing over her head and then she is calm again and giving me a watery, embarrassed smile. "Gosh, sorry Mom. I thought... well, nevermind. Let's eat!"