Picture taken 9/26/2011. Poor girl inherited her father's "Cheese Man" smile.
Wordless Wednesday: Cheese!
Tag Archives: smiles
Too much TV! Ya don’t say?
We recently celebrated our twelfth anniversary. A couple of friends volunteered to watch our munchkins, but even with childcare arraignments, we weren’t sure if it would be much of an outing. We haven’t been able to get Lukas to drink from a bottle. When Kurt tries to offer the bottle Lukas does nothing. When I attempt to offer it to him he looks at me as if to say, “Don’t give me that silicone crap! I know you have the real deal under that sweater.” Actually, that was more of a Sophia attitude. Lukas is much more laidback. He’ll accept the silicone boob-replacement, but he requires that the formula be squirted into his mouth. He’ll suck on silicone pacifier all day long, but he won’t suck on a bottle nipple. That’s just asking too much.
Before leaving I tried to nurse the boy as much as he would take so that we could have at least two to three hours of adult conversation without Sophia, hands held up on either side of her chin with her palms up, yelling at the top of her three-year-old lungs, “I don’t say! I don’t say! I don’t say!” Anytime she speaks gibberish Kurt will just look at her and say, “Ya don’t say?” So she turned it around and that is what she yells until one of us inevitably gives her attention by bursting into laughter.
Dinner began with a crab cake appetizer. My main course was some awesomely buttery tasting scallops and Kurt ordered steak and prawns. For dessert, we split a blackberry cobbler with ice cream. It looked sloppy with the berry juice spilling over the ramekin, but tasted fantastic. And that was the point when I realized I needed to change my TV watching preferences. When part of a meal critique is how it is plated…I watch way too much of the food network. As I cook, I also find myself paying attention to my knife cuts. Another thing to occupy my mind…No good can come of this.
After dinner, we called our sitters to see how Lukas was doing and decide if we wish to risk subjecting our babysitting victims volunteers to a fussy hungry infant by going to a movie. They informed us that he actually drank about an ounce of formula. Great success! It wasn’t enough to constitute a full infant meal, but it was enough to bide more time. We continued our date to include viewing the movie, “True Grit”. Great movie. The only thing that bothered me about it was that twice characters in the movie alluded to the main character being ugly and she was not. Either throw those lines out, cast an ugly girl, or use a little make-up to make her ugly. I have no visual imagination. I need some props over here! *smacking the back of one hand into the palm of the other three times in rapid succession* I need the girl to look ugly! M’kay?
We arrived back home, yawning, at eleven. Yeah we really know how to paint the town red don’t we? It was perfect timing because Lukas was just beginning to get fussy. He smiled when he saw me. I realize that’s a great milestone, but the smiling boy sometimes weirds me out a little. His smiles are often huge when he knows it’s about time to eat that my mind sometimes run through Oedipus scenarios. You see, I have enough to occupy my mind. I don’t need to add knife cuts to that mix.
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And on the Fourth Day She Smiles
I didn’t really check out how well the other two and three year old children were separating from their parents, but let’s just say I didn’t hear any crying except from my child. It wasn’t a loud obnoxious tantrum, just a general sobbing upset. She clung to “friend”, but knew that it was useless to try and Velcro herself to my leg. She was whisked away with tears in her eyes…again.
I figured out why the tickling thing was a big enough deal for Sophia’s buddy to mention the previous day. The head of the camp who is also Sophia’s advocate (person who is supposed to ensure that we’re happy with the services we receive and that we’re informed of everything available to us) came up to me and showed me Sophia’s camp photo. I wasn’t supposed to receive it until the next day but she gave it to me as proof that Sophia does smile while at camp. I’m sure there were some smiles but I’m also fairly certain that she had to be tickled for the photo. How much you want to bet this mom knows her kid?
The snack for this day was a waffle face with apple slices to form a mouth and mini-marshmallow teeth. Sophia likes apple and I used to slice them for her and remove the skin when she was younger, then we moved up to merely slicing it. Now however she won’t touch an apple unless it’s whole. For the waffle face eyes, they used raisins and for a nose, they used half of one of those hotdog things you see in baby food jars. The other half of the hotdog thing was halved again to make the ears. Dried spaghetti was poked into the top of the waffle for some hair. It was cute and overall a better snack than the one from the day before. I’m still not impressed, but at least she’s eating in front of other kids.
Sophia’s buddy said that Sophia still wouldn’t talk in front of her but that the speech therapist was there and Sophia signed for her. I didn’t ask which speech therapist it was, so it could have been the one Sophia is already familiar with, It could have been the one who was assigned to us and used to come to our house.
Thursday:
Today…
I made a…Necklace
I ate a…Waffle and raisins (nothing she hasn’t had at home, except that at home the waffles are made from scratch of course and not Eggo Waffles…I’m just sayin’)
I liked…playing in the field
My day was… (in this part of the form the buddy circles one of three choices: fabulous, good, ok) Sophia’s buddy circled fabulous.
Under comments she wrote, “Still no talking! Although she’s doing great at camp! Signs please and more!”
This was the first time that Sophia seemed genuinely happy after camp. I asked her if she had a good day and she answered with an excited, “Yes!” and a big smile.
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Down Bureaucracy Lane: Social Security Card
I’m beginning to feel more and more curmudgeony the further I venture down the American tradition of marriage and assuming a new identity. Today’s adventure is courtesy of the Social Security department of perpetual impatient rudeness. I know it’s a really monotonous job and dealing with the public can be very painful. I understand having a bad day and don’t expect miles of smiles and grace with every human encounter. I don’t care about any of that. I only care that when my number is called that I’m given half a chance to get to the window or door from which it’s being called. I was in the back of the room, but I’m not that slow. I knew my number was next because I can fuckin’ count despite being a product of public education.
I dreaded going to the department incapable of moving faster than frozen molasses with a toddler, but Sophia did great. I was armed with a sippy cup of milk and her current favorite snack “cheee”, string cheese. Sophia was superb at entertaining herself crawling under my chair with her “chee” and a pink pen with the cap on. I kept hearing people comment on how cute she was and looking at me smiling. It felt great having a good kid, but I worried about how long this might last.
The social security office has five windows and runs three sets of numbers; I assume the number set obtained from the computer depends on the reason for one’s visit. I was number B164. The number on the screen was B163. Awesome, it should take too long.
One man at the front of the room went up to the security officer to ask a question about his number. Apparently he didn’t hear when his number was called two numbers ago. The officer told him that they always call the numbers three times. He lies. He then directed the man to inquire at one of the windows behind me at the back of the room which was not serving a person at the time.
I kept watching the window with the sign that read, “Social Security Cards” over it on the opposite side of the room from me. I was sure that’s where my number would be called from. I didn’t see when the number changed on the sign but I did hear my number called once from a door in the front of the room. I stood up with my things and reached for Sophia. I looked up again and the door was closing behind someone else. What the fuck? I waited assuming the person just had to grab something and would be back shortly. I sat back down. I waited two full minutes.
Not wanting to be skipped I went to the window behind me where a lady sat working on papers but without a customer. I told her my number was on the screen and it was called from the door but that it closed before I could get to it. “Oh don’t worry they’ll call your number when they’re ready” she told me.
“They did call the number from the door, but someone else went back there.” I didn’t actually know if it was another person or the person that called the number who I saw as the door closed. All I know is that it closed before I even left my seat.
“Really? How odd.” She said, “Well I’ll put your number on the list and they’ll call you. I just need to finish my applications first.” She said the last part as if I was being unreasonably impatient or rude.
Minutes later I was called to the window I assumed would be calling me in the first place. Sophia followed me and several, “Aaww, isn’t she cute?” “She’s so cute.” Statements could be heard. I sat down and Sophia tried to climb up on the chair next to me but could because there wasn’t a bar across the legs to help boost her up, so I gave her a lift. She sat quietly next to me for the next ten minutes while my papers were processed.
As I was leaving the lady behind the door appeared again. She called out, “A70”. There was a brief pause. “A71” she said. I looked at the board and it had changed from 70 to 71 and then 72 after another brief pause. This room isn’t that big. I’m not very good at guessing room sizes, but it’s maybe thirty by thirty feet. There are about 72 chairs (6 rows of 12) in the room with a path around them all and a path down the middle of the chairs. The woman wasn’t giving anyone a chance. As I walked out, I heard two people say, “Hey they skipped my number.”
Sophia held my hand all the way down the stairs and across the parking lot to the truck. I had her let go so I could unlock the truck and she took off. OHGOD! Like most parking lots this one was filled with crazy drivers not paying any attention and in very close proximity to a very heavily traveled street. I chased her down. She thought mommy was playing games and took off faster until she tripped and hit her forehead on the pavement. This is her first road rash goose egg, and oh what a goose egg. The bruise she has under her eye from trying to climb up a slide is finally going away and she had to get yet another bruise. *sigh*