Just a small town baby.

For a good portion of my life, I thought I would end up raising my kids in the same small town that I grew up in. My own mom went to the same high school as Kyle and I did and I imagined my kids would do the same. Plus I am a self professed mama's girl so living away from my parents seemed like the last thing I would want to do. At some point, however, the plan changed (as plans tend to do) and we've found ourselves raising the Little Red outside of our hometown. While we adore the small city that we live in and have a strong like for its neighboring big city, there are certain aspects of raising a child in a small town that can't be equaled.
Luckily, we are usually able to spend weekends in our hometown and we get to take advantage of some of the wonders of rural living. Last weekend we participated in the local Swede Day 10k that included four close encounters with manure trucks (not to mention a killer 1970's smiley face medal) and this weekend we attended the Independence Valley Chicken Races. That's right, chicken races.

The object of the chicken races is quite simple. Stick a chicken in the middle of a circle. Stick a kid on the outside of the circle. Get the kid to scare the chicken out of the circle. Time it. Eat the chicken. Okay, I made the last part up, the competitors were not eaten but there was totally a chicken dinner before the races (cracks me up). Since Claire loves birds and races (the latter is me projecting), I figured this would be right up her alley. I was right, until the actual races started. Clarie was #25 so she got to watch the first kids do their thing and form her strategy. She was totally into it until the feathered contestant was scooped up in a net. Apparently I have a future member of PETA on my hands because she burst into tears as soon as the chicken was caught. I'm still not sure why, but without fail, each time a chicken was caught, bottom lip out and alligator tears. I tried to explain to her that she eats chicken all the time but apparently that wasn't helpful. We ended up having to cover her eyes or distract her every time a chicken was being caught. We contemplated having her sit her turn out to prevent any emotional scaring but by the time it was her turn she was rallying so we took a chance and threw her in the ring (not literally of course).

Claire's cousin Sophia. I told her to look like a competitor and this is what she gave me.

Claire thought that the other kids were the most interesting part...seriously why is a number so freaking cute on a baby? 

 Sophia was up first. She was totally in it to win it.

Then Claire took her turn. She decided to let me throw the socks at her chicken while she pointed her bubble maker at it.

 No competition would be complete without participation ribbons...I wonder how long I have until she realizes that everyone gets one.

Did I mention that it rained the entire time? Who knew we would need our rain jackets in June? 

 

Finger chewing was the real event of the day. Something about popping out molars makes it extra appealing.

Between our suburban weekday life and our rural weekend days, we truly get the best of both worlds.

Let me begin this post by stating the obvious: I have loved my baby fiercely, from the second she was handed to me and I have unequivocally enjoyed every stage of her development. That being said, I don't look back at the newborn/infant stage and get those ooey, gooey feelings that a lot of my mom peers seem to have. I'm not going to try to pretend that I was not a sucker for my new baby. She was/is my world. And those newborn/early infancy moments were not lost on me. But, it was tough. It was tiring. It's over...well, for this round at least.
So while others are waxing sentimental over the memories of the teensy version of their kiddos (I'm not knocking this, I think it's the norm), I am thanking my lucky stars that those days are a happy Facebook photo album memory (my actual memory of those first months is pretty foggy). Infants are amazing, but from my perspective, you work incredibly hard to keep them happy, healthy and safe the first 9ish months and then after that, the hard work pays off and your high maintenance infant turns into a kick-ass little pal who you get to take on the world with (the world of baby gym, swimming lessons, and the zoo...but the world, nonetheless).
So while I'm not a sentimental mom in the traditional sense, I've recently discovered a chink in my armor...Claire's old clothes. This week, we retired Claire's baby Crocs and moved on to a "big girl" pair and the thought of putting them away, made me pause. I remember wiggling them onto her feet and watching her clip clop around the store with the price tag dragging behind her (Grammy had no choice but to buy them for her). They saw us through mud, sand, and puddles and while I'm not trying to plug Crocs, they freaking rock for toddlers/kids. So I had to sigh a little when I thought about the fact that they were off to the storage closet. Yes, I know they are just a pair of shoes but the reality is that they were an everyday, tangible part of that little snippet of time. A snippet of time that I loved.
Alas, her baby Crocs aren't the first sigh-inducing piece of Claire's clothing and I'm certain they won't be the last. Thumbing through the archives, I pinpointed a few other such articles.

First, there's this cardigan. Maybe it's the fact that it looks like something that I would wear myself. 

Then there are the pink bunny PJs.

Oh and this hat.

I can't forget her pink trimmed hickory overalls.

Then there are the shoes in question.

Like I said, I'm attached. But there is a silver lining...

It turns out that Claire loves her big girl Crocs. She put them and did her little stomping jig while saying "shoe, shoe, shoe" and then requested that I leave them on her. On to a new snippet.

Several years ago I ran the Sound to Narrows 12k for the first time. After dragging myself up the final stretch of hills and finishing the race, I plopped down to pretend like I was stretching (it's one of my signature rest-moves, it makes you look like a serious runner when in reality, you're being lazy). As I was "stretching" and enjoying my orange, I found myself in the middle of one of the single most amazing events I've ever seen...the Sound to Narrows Diaper Dash. It was one of those moments that my mom envy was put into overdrive and I had visions of my future child (sans red hair...wasn't planning for that) kicking some diaper butt some day in the future (okay, I'm not that competitive, but close!). Well over the weekend, my Diaper Dash dreams became a reality and Claire began her racing career in a memorable fashion. Here is the full race report.

Pre-race: Claire stretched out her hammies while Emmett worked the crowd. The race bibs cracked me up.

Lining up for the start. Claire had a pretty hard core game face. 

Claire took off right away. Clearly, her adrenaline was pumping. Then this happened....

The jury is still out on whether the baby tripped or if Claire pulled a Tonya Harding move on her.
 

 Apparently, she felt guilty...or is being a bully. Emmett seized the opportunity and took off.

Then the pit crew stepped in...I'm pretty sure this called for a disqualification. 

After her competitor stood back up, Claire kicked in the afterburners and finished strong.

 

Claire had to replenish her calories after the race so she hit the orange slices pretty hard.

Are you kidding me with the baby race shirts?

Emmett apparently got a runner's high. He went a little crazy after his race debut.

It was a hilarious thing to watch and both Claire and Emmett had tons of fun. I can't wait until they do it again next year.

I've always been a huge fan of quirkiness. Not, weirdness. Stay away adults who wear fox tails in every day situations (I'm not making this up unfortunately). No thank you man walking around with a bird on his shoulder. But things that are just a little bit odd, a click or two off from normal, are right up my alley. I think it's the secret (or not so secret) nerd in me.

That being said, I've always been a little hopeful that I would have one of those quirky kids that I've admired in the past. The little boy who insists on wearing a full on Spiderman outfit to the zoo or the girl (or boy for that matter) who wants to wear all of the tutus in her closet at once (that's a shout out to Claire's toddler friend Brooklyn).  Claire is still a little young to be a full on quirkster but I've seen flashes of what may prove to be a promising future in quirkiness. Plus, lets be honest, quirky is in her genes.

Yesterday was very quirky day. First, Claire fed her Tickle Me Elmo part of her sandwich while hanging out in her shopping cart. Aunt Jin was walking through the door as this was happening, which is what solicited the smiles (otherwise, feeding your toys is serious business). 

Then we went outside and she decided to drink rain water out of the seat of her Radio Flyer.

Then she hid in the mint plant.

Like I said, it was a quirky day.

Here is some mother-inflicted quirk from earlier in the week. Shorts and tights.

And while we're on the subject, one of Claire's earliest expressions of quirk, the Monster Face.

 

 

If, however, I am totally off base and Claire ends up being a normal kid (god forbid, right?), that's fine by me. I've come to the conclusion that whatever she does and whoever she ends up being, I'll be 100% smitten. Can you blame me?

Earlier this week, I ran across a series of blog posts that answer the prompt "What the baby books don't tell you". Some of them were expected, and a few of them, like this one, were quite the opposite. Reading them got me all reflective and well, Chelsey-ish. What did the baby books neglect to tell me? I should start by saying that those books told me a whole lot. I'm a very by the book sort of mama, in a literal sense. Pregnancy, breastfeeding, natural birth, child development...been there, read that. Here was part of my book stack (and my bun in the oven). It, the stack, has grown since...and so has the bun.

So reflexively, my initial answer to the prompt was simply, nothing. Books never let me down (Kyle likes to joke that they are my only friend). They told me everything that I needed to know, from the poppy seed sized baby chillaxing in my belly, to the Little Red who is sitting next to me now. But the question kept tip-toeing through my brain so I gave in and dug a little deeper into the cob-webby parts of my mind. Low and behold, I pinned down my real answer. Here it is.

What the books didn't tell me was that when I became a mother, I would feel everything exponentially stronger than I did pre-Claire. All of my emotions, happiness, pride, fear, anxiety, were amplified the instant that I became a mother. I was prepared to experience the whirlwind moment of bringing your child into the word, the trials of labor, the tears of joy when you meet your baby but I imagined that it all settled down after a few days, or weeks, and life would return to normal, or at least, a new normal. I assumed that emotions would return to a nice cozy, middle of the road, contained, state. Not the case. My baby would cry, as babies tend to do, and it would send what felt like an electric jolt through my whole body. Luckily, I had read about this, it was that roller coaster of hormones that come along with a new baby. Just a phase that would taper out. Again, not the case. The 14 month old version of that shock inducing infant still can hit certain note that sends me reeling (and pulling over, since 99% of the time it stems from carseat hatred). On the flip side, happiness, love, pride;  all feelings that I had no shortage of before Claire, constantly flood my heart and mind in even most routine moments of my day.

So is my answer that becoming a mother makes a woman (me) more emotional? Not exactly a groundbreaking revelation. Plus, I'm pretty sure that one of those books probably mentioned something like that (it's probably in a chapter titled "Duh"). My answer to the question is that the books didn't tell me that becoming a mother would change the way I feel. Rationalizing feelings, pushing aside thoughts, containing emotions...no longer an option. When it comes to my kiddo, I feel everything that comes at me, real, raw, and unfiltered. Does that mean I'm going through life like a total basket-case, crying half the time and hoisting Claire up on my shoulders singing "For she's a jolly good fellow" the other half? Um...no. Actually, my guess is that there is no, or little, outward evidence of such a change. But it's there. It's exhausting but at the same time, it's what fuels my mommy tank. And I have a sneaking suspicion that it's a big part of what makes the mom/dad experience what it is. I suppose that all those books could've given me a heads up, but honestly, there are some things you just can't prep for.

Anyone who has a one year old knows that they are excellent supervisors. I spend the majority of my day with two over-sized, brown eyes watching my every move. Although Claire's vocabulary limits her in what I imagine would be a constructive critique of my vacuuming methods, running form, and photography technique, she makes it clear that if she were running the show (which she pretty much is, when you think about it), she would be doing things much differently. For example, the vacuum works much better if you shove a foam letter in it or the electrical sockets are more aesthetically pleasing without those ugly safety covers in them. Tips and tricks, courtesy of a 14 month old.
Claire visited Grammy at her office on Friday and she had several ideas on how things could be running a little more smoothly. Here are a few of words of wisdom:

A credit card machine really doesn't need a cord. Everything is wireless these days anyways.

                                         Eating your lunch at your desk increases productivity. 

You should always back up your files in more than one place...you never know what might happen to your hard drive! 

                                                    Always shred important documents.

                                            Be sure to keep your supply closet organized! 

 

Here is one from the archives. Oh my, how quickly things change. 

Baby milestones are a peculiar thing to experience. I know that every baby has their own approach to covering new development territory, so I can only speak to The Little Red's style, but it's both amazing and shocking when your kiddo suddenly is capable of something that moments before, they had literally never done before. Claire's style is to spring a new skill on us, with no real warning, and then pretend like she's been doing it her whole life. "Why are you getting out your camera?" her face says, "I'm just taking my first steps. No big deal." Or "Seriously, you're calling Grammy to tell her I rolled over? Why all the fuss?"
While the whirlwind of the big milestones is behind us, we're now on to adventures in talking. Last night, Kyle and I went to dinner and Claire busted out her patented reach-across-the-table-to-simultaneously-hug-your-arm-against-her-body-and-melt-your-heart move. Then she looked up at me and said "I lu loo". Seriously kid, are you trying to make my heart explode? I felt like the cartoon of  The Grinch, when his heart grew 3 sizes. It was one of those mom moments that you are incredibly grateful that someone else was there to bare witness because you would feel like a lunatic trying to convince someone else that it happened. To be clear, Grammy taught Claire to say a 1 year old version of "I love you" last Saturday, which was a jaw dropper of it's own, but this was the first time that she used it on her own and in the right context. Coincidental? Maybe. Do I care? Not in the least!

Here is quick video of Claire's "I love you". It's quickly becoming her favorite thing to say.