September Morn

Longstreet Farm September 2010

Besides the birth of our new cousin, our end of summer has been filled with events. We had our well visit and we are doing very well. Charlie weighs in at 23.4 lbs and 35 inches. A tall drink of water. Nori is 22.8 lbs and 33 ¼ inches tall. A petite powerhouse. We may be small in stature but we are big on personality. Charlie continues to be a lover of all motor vehicles. We went to a fundraiser this month called “Touch a Truck.” Needless to say, he was in heaven. He got to explore a fire engine, police car, construction equipment, a phone company van and an ambulance. Normally Charlie is the first one to want to go home, but on this day, he cried the whole way home. He is also an expert at direction and is the first to notice if I am taking a different way to a frequented location. He knows that Cinderella is painted on a store we always pass on the way home from the gym and will ask why we are not going home if I don’t go down that street. He knows that the Barnes and Noble has a train table and wimpers when we pass it (barely visible from the road) about his beloved trains. He began talking about “firetrucks” when we pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office. I had no idea what he was talking about until we entered Dr. Tavil’s waiting room, which, sure enough, had these two huge fire trucks that were in fact there at our last visit. Three months prior. He is still a little wobbly on his feet, but what he lacks in physical prowess he makes up for with intense concentration and critical thinking. I would love to be inside his head so I could see things as he figures them out.
Nori, I realize, is the daughter I have always dreamed of. When I would daydream about what my children might be like a picture of a determined, almost bossy, affectionate and show off kept popping into my head. I couldn’t get rid of it. And here she is, in the flesh. It is almost as if I willed her into being. But for as strong as she is, she cannot help but to fall for Bryan’s reverse psychology. If she does not want to do something, all Bry has to do is say he is going to do/use/eat whatever it is we want her to do/use eat. For example:
“Nori, time to change your diaper.”
“No Daddy.”
“Okay, then I am going to wear your diaper.”
“No, no, no, no! My diaper.”
And poof, her diaper is changed. It also works with her pre-potty training. Every time she uses the toilet she gets two M&M’s. If she goes in her diaper, Bryan eats her two M&M’s. I swear she goes on the potty just so he can’t have the candy.
So we continue to work on potty training and other skills I think may be missing out in day care or pre-pre-school while we run around town to zoos, farms, play dates and music class. Seriously, we don’t have time for pre-pre-school. We are having way too much fun.

Don't Put Another Dime in Jukebox

http://jerseymomsblog.com/author/amygils/

A title explanation...
Literally translated, Jai Ho means “victory is mine.” I felt like the song title (from the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack) fit the article about Cassidy’s birth because of its sentiment but also because it happened to be playing when she was born. However, Cassidy’s entrance song could easily have been something else. Something hilariously worse.

I learned of Eric's eclectic musical taste quite by accident. Years ago, I borrowed Eric’s car to run an errand when he was blocking me in the driveway. At the time he was driving a Jetta so I thought I was pretty cute driving up River Road to pick up sandwiches to fuel us during one of our many home projects. The radio was on and I just let whatever was in the CD player play out. It was Linkin Park; so again, I thought I was pretty cool as the roughness of the music took up the space between me and the wind rushing in from the sun roof. The next song in line, however, changed the atmosphere. Enya came sailing away through the speakers. Enya? I located the track forward button to escape this new age noise only to come to Barbie Girl. Wow. I almost steered off the road trying to change it.
I gingerly broached the subject with Amanda who only cautioned me to never listen to one of Eric’s mixes again because the selection could get much worse. Perhaps a year later, on a flight from Newark to Aruba, Amanda, Eric and I were playing “Guess who’s IPod.” It is a simple game where you close your eyes and one of the other players selects a song from another player’s IPod and holds it up to your ears and you have to guess the owner of the playlist. After my jaunt in the Jetta, and knowing my sister’s very specific music tastes, I knew I was listening to Eric’s right away when Kid Rock was followed by Hakuna Matata. Country rock followed by The Lion King. Classic Eric.

So the day of Cassidy’s birth, Eric’s schizophrenic jukebox in his head was flying free and he would intermittently share a line or two of his favorite new tune, “Baby I like it” by Enrique Iglesias. (This is also the ring tone on his phone whenever Amanda calls him.) With every burst of song I could see Amanda get a little edgier. While Eric’s multifaceted music tastes are loved and appreciated by all, there may be moments when such medleys are not treasured.

However, when the doctor came in and let us know we were just about ready, Amanda asked for a little music. Eric eagerly responded with, “I got it babe,” only to have Amanda gasp back, “No, no, not your IPod. Get mine!” Even in the midst of labor Amanda knew that it was possible for her daughter to come into the world to the cast of Glee singing Don’t Stop Believing if Eric’s IPod was in use. She could not let that happen. So, in between contractions, she grabbed her IPod and scrolled for her “maternity” play list and hit play.
As if on cue, Cassidy appeared as the Bollywood Ballad bounced in the background. It was followed by When you Say Nothing at All, Eric and Amanda’s wedding song. Welcome baby girl!