We spent most of your 21st month in the United States, where you charmed the socks off of your family and friends. My first order of business in Florida was to buy you a pair of flip flops, which they apparently now make for toddlers. The fact all shoes sold in discount-like stores are held together with an elastic band made it very difficult to actually have you try on shoe AND walk around in them, and yet I was wowed by the cuteness, and we got you a pair of flip flops. That you wore long enough for me to take a picture of you wearing them.
Then they became “owa owa owa,” like almost all shoes. So now they belong to Owen, who might be able to get some use out of them when he finally stops being so immobile, lying there like a fat turtle and such. (But, by the way, your father and I would very much approve if the two of you would get married some day.) And you, dear child, spent almost a month in the sweltering heat of Florida and Kansas in socks and shoes or barefoot. That seemed to bother you less than wearing sandals, and we figure that you will probably never be begging us for the newest Air Jordans … or whatever cool shoes people will be murdering each other over when you’re a teenager.
Florida
So, Florida was our first port of call in the States, where the word “summer” knows no limits. It was hot, hot, hot, which limited our trips to the beaches to the evenings. It also made us all wonder why they even bother building playgrounds with no shade; that is unless you’re into getting third-degree burns on your ass when you go down the slide. You had fun anyway, since you had your Grandma and Great Grandma (whose request to be called “GG” was eagerly fulfilled by you) doting on you all day. GG had toys galore for you to play with, coloring books, juice and all the raisins you could ever want to eat (which led to truly horrifying diaper contents later on). You were also delighted to realize that Aunt Jill and Uncle Ron have a dog, which placated your doggie needs (When we dropped Lilly off at the doggie farm in Germany where she stayed while we were away, you became hysterical once you realized that she wasn’t coming with us.). Dexter quickly became your “Didi,” as did every single subsequent dog we met on our trip, including Rachel, Sparky, Babs, Benny and Sadie (and the statue of a dog at Old Navy).
(Not pictured here is Dexter, the reason for the clapping.)
(There are more pictures to come, Babs and Sparky. I'm just too lazy to get them off the camera, where they've been stewing for a month.) Kansas
After about 10 days in Florida, we flew to Kansas with hopes of normal weather, which were summarily dashed. A weekend in Kansas City was spent with old friends — and some new ones, too, including Jenn with her son Emerson, whom you may also feel free to marry should things not work out with Owen. And then there was the barbecue, both that cooked up in Amy’s driveway and that acquired from Oklahoma Joe’s. Oh yes, the barbecue. And then there was bacon for breakfast. It was delish.In Newton we stayed with the Carmans, whose son Aaron has been a friend of mine since way back in the day. And their house out in the country was the absolute paradise for you, with dogs and a horse and a riding lawnmower that Mary took you for a ride on. We had planned on heading down to Winfield to the Walnut Valley Bluegrass festival a few days later, but you suddenly came down with a fever, which kept us in Newton one more day. And away from the hurricane-force winds and storms that ripped through Winfield that night. So tell your immune system thanks from us, OK?
Winfield
Once we finally made it down to the mud pit that was Pecan Grove at the festival, we were greeted by Erin, a person who needs no explanation, much like Jackée or Cher, or other one-name wonders. Thanks to her, we became a part of the Brigadoon family and were given a place to pitch our tent and food to eat and beer to drink. Well, not you. You got milk. And water. And if there was a sip of beer somewhere in there, well then, so be it. It’s Winfield, baby.
Now, you have to know that this bluegrass festival used to be THE HIGHLIGHT of the year for me. I could go for days without showering, I could drink all the beer I could hold, I could listen to bluegrass music non-stop. And yes, I could buy sandals made out of jute and essential oil that may or may not have smelled like patchouli. It was awesome.
Erin (mother of Owen) and I both came to the realization that going to Winfield with children is a whole different ballgame. We didn’t make it over the actual festival part that often, mainly because it was too hot during the day, and you were usually cranky by the evening.
Your father and I took you on an hour-and-a-half drive to Harper, Kansas one hot day so that you could be in the air conditioning for a while. And, of course, so we could take your picture in front of the Harper sign.
Anyway, I don’t want to complain, because all in all, it was still awesome, and I hope that we can go back every year so that you will love it as much as I do.
(The story about how Erin and I were given leave one night to go out and roam the other camps is one I will save for another time. It was cut short by a text message from Erin’s nephew Conner that simply read: "Harper is awake. Not happy." You cried until I made it back to camp to nurse you. You’ve got staying power, kid.)
Our friends Miranda and Zach also came down to Winfield with their sons John and Ezra. And should you decide to marry John, well, that would be OK, too. He seemed pretty intent on impressing you ("Do you like my shirt, Hawper?" "I like Hawper.").
Well, I could go on and on about our trip, but perhaps you’ve already zoned out while reading this, so I will just say that the trip was absolutely fantastic. You had a wonderful time, and you still talk about the deer and giraffe that licked you at the zoo.
Developments
We spent our last few days in the States in Naples, Fla., and it was there, in the Courtyard by Marriot hotel that you peed in the toilet for the first time ever. You’ve done it a handful of times since then (plus a handful of false alarms), and this is very exciting to those of us who have to change your diapers. The only thing is that you refuse to use your potty chair or the thing we have that fits on the toilet. Which means one of us has to crouch in front of the toilet and hold you in place (Daddy let you fall in once.).
The last two months have also been crazy in terms of language development. You picked up a lot of new words while we were in the States, and now I have lost count of all the things you can say. You almost always say thank you, and your newest favorites are “HALLO!” and “BYE BYE!!!” And, as of this week, we’ve gotten you to say “Shabba,” which comes in handy when we sing this song.
The biggest development of them all (at least for me…yeah, I’m selfish like that) is the reduction in doodie doo. I had to go to Paris for two nights a few weeks ago, and when your Daddy told me that you had only woken up once during the night, I decided that I was done with nursing you at night. And it worked. There were a few tears and a few pleas for doooodie dooooo, but cuddling and water seem to work just fine. And this week you slept through the night for probably the second time ever. So, yeah, I guess night nursing does kind of lead to more waking up. We’re down to nursing once a day — when you go to bed at night — and I cannot believe it. Because you are the world’s biggest boob junkie.
There’s so much more I could write about — how you hold your elbows out to the side and move from side to side when you want to listen to music; how you love visiting the ladies at the doctor’s office downstairs; how you help clean up around the apartment; and so on and so on. But I guess that’s what I get for skipping a month of writing. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again, boss.
Love,
Mama
This month’s nicknames: Gum Gum, Harpie, Harper Bear
This month’s song: Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
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