Taking Pride in One's Poopies

Having the experience of two other children behind us, I'm not naive enough to think Brigid's success on the potty last night is the beginning of the end of diapers for us, but it's something to crow about nonetheless. After she covered herself in mashed potatoes (first) and then ice cream sandwich (second) at dinner last night, I gingerly picked her out of her high chair and lugged her upstairs for a bath. After successfully ridding her of the sludge that had covered her almost head to toe, she played happily for a while in the bathtub, and then she started doing kind of a dance with a worried look on her face. I asked if she needed to go potty and she repeated "Potty" a few times. I called for Patricia to bring her potty upstairs, which Patricia did quickly, and I pulled Brigid out of the water. She sat down without complaint and when I covered her with a towel to keep her warm, she didn't complain about that, either, which is saying something. After a few minutes, during which she babbled away very cheerfullly, she stopped talking, looked very serious and announced, "Potty." She then proceeded to do her business. It took a few minutes, and when she was done the reason was obvious. She had quite a lot of work to do. She was very proud of herself and we made sure to make quite a fuss over her job well done. She then happily ran around upstairs naked and unashamed while I said bye bye to her poopies.

It may not amount to much, but the idea is there and she understood something was going on that is different from going in her diaper. That's all you can ask for at 18 months.

Last night was also the girls' first night for jazz class. They enjoyed it a great deal. Tonight is tap class, and Friday is my first jazz class. Here we go again.

Alfred Hitchcock Could Have Used Footage from Our Kitchen

Well, we had a scare last night, but I'll have to back up to the night before. Apparently Brigid had a nosebleed over night because there was some evidence on her sheet in her crib and some dried blood in her nostril in the morning. She has had a runny nose so I didn't give it too much thought. Then, during church, she had a good bloody smear out of her nose that sent me running with her to the ladies' room to clean her up. Again, I was concerned but thought it was still because of her congestion. We had a good day -- it was beautiful and sunny and warm and she ran around in the backyard, playing on her Little Tykes slide and kicking her soccer ball. She didn't have much of an appetite at dinner, although she wolfed down two HOT dogs for lunch. After dinner she was melting down, crying a weird high-pitched cranky cry and started rubbing her face like she does when she's overtired. I was about to take her to her room to get her ready for bed when I realized she was pouring blood from her nose. It was all over her face and her arm and hand, and now it was all over me. It just poured out of her and she was freaking out. I couldn't get her to sit still for me to wipe the area to assess the situation. It just kept coming, and when she'd cry it would spurt and fly all over. Patricia came to help me, but we couldn't get her to sit still. I didn't want her to run around the house spewing blood all over. I was panicking because it's not normal for a baby to have a nosebleed out of nowhere. I remembered something I'd read previously about children and nosebleeds, saying to keep them calm (try it sometime). So I suggested she have a bath, and that calmed her down. Patricia helped get her upstairs for the bath while I re-checked my facts in the book and it did say to keep them calm because when they're all riled up it just makes the blood flow faster. The bath was calming and at least it helped clean her up. The blood slowed down and eventually stopped while she was in the bathtub and she seemed to be in good spirits. I looked like I had defended myself against a knife-wielding attacker, however, so I splashed water on my arms to clean myself up as well. The white shirt I was wearing had seen better days.

After her bath, Brigid was still cranky, so I gave her some yogurt and a cheese stick because of her scant eating at dinner. The girls were watching the rest of "The Astronaut Farmer" (a great film) so we sat and rocked and Brigid nursed on and off but was just kind of antsy. After Margaret and Patricia went to bed, she finally settled down and allowed me to put her in bed. She slept fine but woke up early, about 4:15 a.m. Normally, I'd let her settle herself back down, but I was worried about the nosebleeds, so I got up and went to her. She seemed fine if not a little out of sorts so I brought her in with us and we fell back to sleep again. She didn't sleep very well, however, and was nursing at the open buffet most of the morning until I had to get up with the girls. Needless to say, Brigid got up earlier than she normally does but was in a fairly good mood. She immediately went to Patricia to have her read her a book (she says something that sounds like "read" and she says Bukkk, heavy emphasis on the "k"). They were making toast when I left with Margaret.

Speaking of Margaret, yesterday was a milestone in Brigid's vocal life when she said "Margaret." I was calling Margaret from the living room and Brigid did likewise. It came out "Ma-gret" but she repeated it several times so we know it was definitely Ma-gret. We cheered and she preened and said it again for our benefit. She tried saying Patricia and I think there's something in there but it's hard to make out just yet. I'm still waiting for a "Mommy" that doesn't come with a pawing of my top at the same time and a frantic "mah mah mah."

She Connects the Dots. She Just Doesn't Want to Sit on Them

Baby Brigid and I spent the day together while Daddy, Margaret and Patricia spent last night and today at the lake. It was a glorious day, warm and sunny, and we had a good time. We did a few garage sales and I found a chair for the corner of Brigid's room. I'd like to unload the bookshelves, at least to her height, and use them for her toys and books. I'll get a slipcover or drape for the (very ugly) chair and use it to read to her or nurse her at night so there are fewer distractions. We had lunch out and took a nap together. I made pasta for dinner and we ate in front of the TV watching the Elmo video, "Learning to Share," from which Brigid learned the word, "Mine." Apparently, the lesson was lost on her.

Today, she said, "Juice," and "More," and "Cheese," and "Cookie," and "Tea" and the list goes on and on. It seems she's enjoying repeating words as you say them. She was saying "Stairs" when climbing up for her bath tonight. Yesterday she became very upset because Patricia wasn't responding to her cries that she wanted something. She was trying to get over a barrier. The potty was on the other side. I said, "She wants her potty," to which Brigid responded, "Potty." She said it over and over as we put it on the floor in the living room. She didn't want to use the potty. She wanted to sit on it and play with it while fully clothed. This morning, when I was using the big-girl potty, she came into the bathroom and said, "Potty potty potty." Now, if we can only get her to say it while actually using it herself.

However, she continues to understand when I say, "Let's go change your stinky diapers" because she'll march into her room and stand at the ready at the changing table. She may not want to stay on the changing table, or stay in the reclining position on the table while being changed, but she understands, and she seems to be truly happy once the offensive diaper has been removed. Imagine how delighted she'll feel when she's able to use the potty.

Is There a Cure for Waiting Room Disorder?

Brigid had her 18-month well-baby visit on Wednesday and had to get two shots -- her Hep A and a flu shot, both of which didn't go very well. It took a long time to calm her down. But she started reacting long before the shots were given. When we walked into the exam room she turned and tried to burrow out between my legs in an escape attempt. When I got her inside the room and on the table, she tried to dead-weight herself off. I had to strip her down so she could be weighed and measured. When I put her down on the table, head at the wall so the nurse could measure her length, she started screaming bloody murder; she did the same thing when placed on the scale. The nurse measured 31 and a half inches and 23.12 pounds, but with all her thrashing about, I don't know how accurate either of those measurements are. She feels like she weighs 40 pounds dripping wet. When Dr. Chaskey came in, she gave him a suspicious glare and wouldn't let me put her on the table so he could listen to her chest. He managed to look in her ears but only because I held her in a death grip. She just wanted out of there, and the worst was yet to come. They made us wait a long, long time for the nurse to return with her shots, and that was almost as hard as the exam because Brigid just wanted out. When the nurse finally did return with the shots, Brigid freaked and it was all we could do to hold her down on the table. She started hyperventillating afterward and I had to hold her in my lap to get her dressed. We finally got out of our 9:40 appointment at 11:45. Most of it was just waiting, which is torture for a baby. Plus, 11 a.m. is about the time Brigid is used to eating, and then she's heading into her nap time, so she was hungry and tired as well as sore.

But what really torqued me was when we arrived for the appointment, the receptionist said, "We expected you on Monday." I didn't think I heard her right so I had her repeat it. She said our appointment was on Monday. I said she was mistaken, and we had an appointment card on the calendar that said otherwise. She maintained that they not only expected us Monday, but that they had called. I know for a fact that we had no voice mail left; I didn't take a call from them, and Jack didn't say anything about a confirmation call. Then during the exam, Chaskey said something about wondering where we were on Monday. I repeated that we had the appointment card and that we hadn't received any confirmation call. He suggested the handwriting may have looked like a "9" as in Sept. 19 but in fact it was Sept. 17? I said it's possible, but it's the first thing I looked at when I got home, and sure enough, the appointment card said Sept. 19 not once but twice. I called his office to tell them it was not me; the mistake was theres and I didn't want them to go on thinking I was either crazy or just plain rude. This mixup on their part is one of the reasons we were kept waiting so long -- they were able to "squeeze us in" between appointments. Well, that was MY appointment. I was pretty torqued, and I had a baby who was out of sorts the rest of the day. By nighttime, she was very sore and cranky. I'd given her some Tylenol and that seemed to help, but she was very floppy at 8 that night so I put her to bed earlier than she normally goes down. Yesterday she seemed her old self, which is to say she was just a tad less demanding and whinny and clingy.

Brigid's vocabulary continues to grow, with her saying "Book" and "Milk" very clearly and with a very loud "uk" sound at the end. She said "Jello" over and over again when she had some at dinner last night. She says something that sounds like (and means) "read" when she looks for and hands you a book. She says "Bettabee" for Little Bear (one of her videos). And this morning, I swear she was saying something for Margaret, because she repeated it when she was looking for her. I'll have to figure out what it is so I can write it down. "Margaret" isn't the easiest word for babies to say; hence, "Mimi," which Patricia dubbed her as a baby. Haven't heard "Patricia" yet, at least not that I know.

Speaking of Mimi, we had the open house last night at the middle school where parents follow their child's schedule on a much-much abbreviated course. It was fun, and we like her teachers very much. Her "team" does a block-teaching method where they have two periods each of math and science, for instance, and the next day the have two periods each of English and social studies instead of the usual one period per class per day. It's more concentrated, the kids don't spend half the day coming and going and the homework for each class is every other day instead of every day. Margaret loves it, and she loves her classes, so we're very pleased. The team teachers seem very committed and enjoy the team approach. We're so proud of how Margaret has blossomed at Stafford. Today is election day for class representatives for Student Council. Margaret was nominated (the reps come from all social studies classes) and she made up fliers for campaigning. She said she doesn't care about the outcome, but she'll happily serve if elected.

Patricia was anguishing over taking an instrument and finally (I think) decided against it this year. She's concerned over missing classwork during band and lessons, and I think she truly would rather be involved in class discussion than have to just make up the work. She also has an interest in playing the piano, but how far that goes is still up in the air.

Dance classes start for all of us next week. The girls have tap and jazz on Tuesday and Wednesday nights; I pick up jazz again on Fridays. Should be fun to get back into the swing of things. Before long, Brigid will be hula-hula-ing it along with the rest of us. Now that she is really mobile, it will be difficult to bring her to dance class with me when I bring the girls. She'll want to be out there on the dance floor with them. I may have to be one of those moms who just drops the girls off and picks them up now. We'll see next week. This weekend, however, Dad is taking Margaret and Patricia to the lake and I'm staying in town with the baby. If I can get some things done around the house with her underfoot, fine; if I can't, then we'll find some fun things to do together on our own. It's supposed to be a great weekend weather-wise, which is also a good opportunity for Jack to be at the lake to get some things done up there. The temps are supposed to plumet again on Sunday. I hope this isn't it for Indian Summer.

In Praise of Caring Physicians

Yesterday, Brigid amazed me when we had on one of her Blues Clues tapes. In the video, Steve sings the birthday candle dance. Brigid stood in front of the TV and "sang" the birthday candle dance, doing the movements that go along with it. The song ends, "Blow out the candle" and you drop to the floor. She blew and dropped. It was the cutest thing. Of course, a monkey can learn something with enough repetition, and Brigid certainly watches Blues Clues enough to be a trained monkey. But it was so cute.

Saturday we had guests at the lake. We had invited my now-retired obstetrician and his wife to come up for the weekend. Duane's an avid kayaker and talked to Jack about kayaking often. I suggested that he and Sharon come up for an afternoon and stay for dinner. It was a wonderful visit but the guys never got to kayak because it rained all day long! We had a good time catching up, however, because we hadn't seen him since he retired a few months after Brigid was born. I had known Sharon for years when I covered the Beekmantown School Board on which she sat as a member. It was fun to introduce the girls to the man who delivered them. And Brigid captivated with her antics once she overcame her shyness (after about all of a minute or two). They're the parents of two grown daughters, and Duane told us when one of his girls asked him many years before if he had ever wanted boys instead of girls, he said, "If we had wanted boys, we would have had boys." That seemed pretty sensible to me. To Jack he said (when Patricia was born), "There's a special bathroom in Heaven for the father of two girls." I told Sharon that on that same early morning when Patricia was born, when Duane came to the hospital to deliver her at 2:20 a.m. on his vacation after having just returned from Quebec City even though there was another doctor from his practice on call, I said, "Tell Sharon thank you!" When Brigid was born, he stayed at the hospital all day even though his on-call shift ended at 8 that morning and she was born at 8:26 p.m. He will always mean the world to me because he cared enough to be there for me, and Sharon will always be special because she allowed him to.

Fashion Designers Have our Number

Brigid was her fussy self last night again at bedtime, but I'm thinking she's just tired. With me getting to work by 8 a.m. she's not getting her usual two hours of sleep in bed with me like she had been, and when she wakes at 7:15 or 7:30, there's no mah mah mah to help her doze back to sleep again. So she was very fussy last night but eventually settled into some boob time and was happy to sleepily snuggle with her blanket when I put her in the crib. Before bed, however, she wanted manana but didn't want to eat the manana. She just carried it around with her. When I realized she wanted something to drink, I asked if she wanted milk. She repeated, "Milk?" Yes, I said. Milk. "Milk? Milk? Milk?" So now she has milk in her vocabulary repertoire. On a whim, I put some in a bottle to see what she would do since we really never offered her a bottle very often. She thought it was neat, kind of a novelty. But she drank it down lying on the couch. And she kept saying, "Bah bah bah?" Apparently, the rule of threes applies to just about everything Brigid says.

This morning, she was sleeping when I got up at 7 but by 7:15, she was up so that meant Jack was up, too, because I had to get Margaret to school and then myself to work. We'll see what that means tonight at bedtime, which will be spent at the lake since we're going to be spending the weekend there. Before I left this morning, I asked her if she wanted her bah bah again. She was fascinated and began to cry for it. I gave her milk in the bottle again, and although she drank from it, it seemed again more of a novelty than anything else. That's OK; I don't want her to become dependent on a bottle that I will then have to take away from her, but it's kind of nice to have her just relax on the couch for a few minutes.

Margaret had photo day today at school and she looked very pretty with her hair down and her white eyelett top. I don't know when Patricia's photo day will be. But I'm sure whenever it is, Patricia will be ready for it long in advance, with an outfit picked out. She's more of a fashionista than Margaret ever was, but she's only as fashionista as I'll let her be. I think part of it is because she wasn't at St. Peter's in uniforms as long as Margaret and has had more outside influence than Margaret did at the same age. But the good thing is both girls know how stupid so much of the fashion is out there, and they know how expensive most of it is, too.

Brigid, however, is a slave to fashion. I enjoy the cute outfits I have for her and will continue to do so because it's the last chance to indulge. What's more, Brigid realizes when she looks cute in something. She'll sashay around waiting for us to say, "Oh, look at Brigid; look how cute she is. You're SO beautiful." I'm sure we're setting her up for a fall later in life, but there's nothing like a Baby Gap or Children's Place outfit on an 18-month-old baby girl.

Copping a Squat Eliminates the Crankies

Crankypants wanted to be held, didn't want to be held, wanted a manana, didn't want a manana, wanted a cookie, didn't want a cookie, said Meesh? Meesh? didn't want to say Meesh? Meesh? Wanted to read, didn't want to read. What she did want to do over and over was tear out all the DVDs and videos from their shelves, regardless of the countless removals, stern "Nos" and "Stop thats" coming from Mom, Patricia and Margaret. Contrary Larry, that's who Miss Baby B was all day yesterday. She had a good nap for Dad, almost an hour and a half, but she was still tired-acting and unreasonable about so many things. But apparently this is the natural course of events, or at least the natural course of events for Downs girls. I dug out a couple of videos of Margaret and Patricia at this age and they both said and did the same kinds of things Brigid is doing right now. Patricia at 18 months sounded and looked just like her baby sister does now. I have footage of Patricia systematically pulling all the books off the bookshelve in what was once the toy room. She sits in the middle of the rubble and paws through stuff, flinging it right and left, occasionally pausing to actually look at it. Then she gets up and move on to something else entirely.

I can't find video of Margaret at exactly this age, although it exists somewhere in the house, but Patricia's vocabulary and sound are amost exactly the same as Brigid's. At 18 months, Patricia was calling me Ma-Mee, however, and Brigid, well, Brigid doesn't seem to call me anything. She calls my boobs Mah mah mah, so maybe that's synonomous with Ma-Mee. Who knows. She says Dah-Dee! with exclamation. In fact, last night I thought I was going to have another difficult bedtime with Brigid, with her screaming and heaving because she started to scream and cry when she called out for Dah-Dee and I had to tell her that he was at work. I even tried to call him on the phone for her, but that backfired. She just wanted to play with the phone and I wouldn't let her. She screamed even louder.

I gave her a bath, and that calmed her down somewhat. So did the poop she managed to take while IN the bath. She was playing, splashing and swimming when all of the sudden, she took on water. She choked and coughed and sputtered, looking at me in amazement. The force of her coughing brought out a little pee pee, and that interested her. She went back to splashing about only to jump up with a look on her face that spelled alarm. She said, "All done?" and I asked if she wanted to get out, but it was too late. She assumed the squatter's stance and all bets were off. But she certainly felt much better afterwards. I worried that if I swept her up and tried to sit her on the big potty, it would cramp her style and she'd freeze up. I'll have to get a little potty for the bathroom for these situations. She certainly knew something was about to happen, we just didn't have time to plan for it. But what's a little poop between friends?

Eighteen of One, a Year and a Half of the Other: Baby B Turns 18 Months

Happy 18-month birthday, our little Baby Brigid! Can't believe 18 months ago you entered our lives. Can't imagine our lives without you. We were indeed blessed by our bonus baby.

Brigid has shown us what 18 months is like in the last few days. Aside from the aforementioned temper tantrums she's become accustomed to throwing, she has also started saying many words, some out of the blue; others are repeated when you say them to her. Yesterday, when I got home from work, she wanted to brush her teeth with her baby toothbrush, a rubber thing that slips onto your finger or the cap of the baby toothpaste tube. We put it on the tube and hand it to her generally and she has at it. Well, yesterday, I put some of the Orajel-brand ooze on the rubber bristles and she said, "teef. Bushhh teef." She said it over and over. She went around with that thing for about an hour telling her sisters, me, the cat, that she bushh teef. She says manana for banana and still says, though not necessary on cue, meesh? for please. She says kitty and mau (for meow) and baaa for sheep, woofwoofwoof for dog. This morning, as I was getting ready to bring Margaret to school and myself to work, she pointed at the television and said, "teeeveee teeeveee" over and over. I think I may have heard her say something for Patricia this morning as well but she said it so quickly I couldn't catch it and she wouldn't repeat it for me. Oh, how could I forget the staple of the American diet, hot dog? She emphasizes hot, as in HOT dog HOT dog HOT dog, over and over. Last night we went to Oak Street School for Patricia's open house. They served a hot dog dinner before the program and Brigid proudly announced to anyone around that she was having a HOT dog. This morning she was also walking around singing something. It was definitely a song, because she had a tonal quality to her voice as she was saying the words, but I couldn't make out what she was singing. She was also dancing at the same time, thrusting her hips out from side to side. It could have been the ABC song or Itsy Bitsy Spider, both of which we have been working on. Or it could have been any number of songs from Blues Clues or Sesame Street. She sings La la la la, la la la la for the Elmo's World song or whenever she sees a picture of Elmo.

Last night was a repeat of the night before as far as getting her to settle down for bed. I ended up once again having to put a screaming, sobbing child in the crib. She settled herself after only a few minutes -- she was exhausted -- but she has gotten herself worked up into a sweat the last few nights. I think she's just overtired, but it's hard to walk out on her when she's crying so hard.

Patricia and Margaret are both in chorus this year -- Patricia was in chorus last year as well. And Patricia was discussing this morning taking an instrument, either flute like Margaret or clarinet. I'm not sure which of the two would be most appropriate for her, but she's always expressed an interest in playing the piano so I'm kind of reticent to encourage her to take one of the other two. I'd love to have her learn piano. Our friend and Brigid's Godmother, Michelle, doesn't have another flute to lend us ;)

When You're Beside Yourself, Check Your Diaper

Well, we've entered a new stage, the stage of rage, with Brigid. At almost 18 months, she is finding it necessary to throw tantrums, objects and herself when challenged. Tonight, she repeatedly screamed, ran away and threw herself to the floor when I tried to a) pick her up; b) take something away from her that she wasn't supposed to have; and c) take her from Margaret when it was time for Margaret to go bed. As I was getting Brigid settled on my lap for some nighttime boob and some rocking, she pitched a major fit -- lots of crying and screaming -- until I finally just put her in her crib. She cried for a short while but for now, seems to be out. Welcome to the Terrible 18-months, formerly and unjustly called Terrible Twos. In between meltdowns, she's charming and funny and a joy to be with (she's always a joy; she's just not always joyous).

Yesterday she didn't seem to be herself, in fact, she didn't seem to be herself for a few days until I realized we hadn't had a dirty diaper from her. Last night, she was squatting in the living room and I figured she was filling her pants. Well, she was, and her onesie, and her socks and her shoes. The poor kid had one massive diaper, but it didn't seem to bother her; in fact, she seemed to feel 100 percent better! Maybe that's the solution to all the world's problems. Everyone should take time to squat.

Margaret and Patricia continue to have good days in school. Patricia got information home the other day about taking an instrument. I don't know if she's ready to commit to that kind of thing, but Margaret continues to show promise on the flute. She is also in chorus this year and is taking Spanish as well. She already knows how to ask if she can go to the bathroom. See? Everyone should take time to "ir a el bano."

Tears Bring Out the Best in Brigid

Well, the girls were understandably tired this morning. This back-to-school thing is grueling, and they're not used to the pace. Margaret went to bed at 7:30 last night and was out by 7:40. Patricia followed at 8. It's a good thing they haven't really started getting any kind of homework assignments yet because they've needed these first few days to recharge and get back into the swing of a routine. Even Brigid's schedule has been thrown off somewhat. First, she doesn't have her big sisters around all day and has to get used to the morning routine again; second, I've been getting up in the morning, leaving her in bed without Mommy or mah mah mah to soothe her back to sleep beyond 8 a.m. So she's been up about 7:45 the last couple of mornings. It might help get her back to a normal nighttime sleep pattern, although the two don't necessarily go hand-in-hand. I put her to bed last night about 9 p.m. (two hours earlier than the night before!) and although she cried, she didn't cry very long before she was out.

We had a mishap earlier in the day that brought about tears (from Patricia and Brigid) and blood (from Brigid. Patricia was giving Brigid a piggyback ride around the house and she slipped on the hardwood floor in the living room. They both went down, and Patricia did her best to protect Brigid but somehow Brigid ended up with a little bloody nose. Brigid cried, but Patricia was beside herself with remorse, crying almost uncontrollably, telling Brigid she was so sorry. It broke my heart because Brigid was fine. Patricia just felt so guilty for hurting her baby sister. All was well a few moments later when Brigid started smiling and laughing. And then her face got very serious and concerned when she saw the tears on Patricia's face and in her eyes. She touched Patricia's face, touched her tears and said something in Brigid Babble. She then hugged her and kissed her. Brigid learns empathy.

While Patricia and Margaret Attend Public School, We're Sending Brigid to Hebrew School

Well, Patricia and Margaret survived their first day of school yesterday with flying colors. Margaret was quite nervous the night before and in the morning because last year at this time, although she was entering a new school and new experience (having been at St. Peter's until now) she had had an orientation prior to the start of school where students learned where their homerooms were, what team they were on, lockers and combinations, etc. This year, as a 7th grader, they had no prior prep and she was nervous about that. Of course, my insight into the situation, telling her they post the homerooms on the wall, that homeroom would be longer than normal to give them the chance to find their lockers, etc., was to no avail. So, what did she find when she got to school? A list of names with homerooms, a longer-than-normal homeroom allowing them time to find their lockers, etc. Most of her friends are on the same team (although I can't right now remember the name) but almost none are in the same classes at the same times. She has no study halls this period because she's taking Spanish, chorus and band, so that eats up what extra time she might otherwise have. But they have a homework "period" at the end of school until 3:30 and she's thinking of staying for that when she needs to. She was beaming when I picked her up yesterday afternoon, so happy to be back, to see her friends. She loves her teachers (so far) and was very comfortable with the schedule. I hope it's the trend for the rest of the year.

Patricia came home beaming as well. She loves her teacher, but she had had the chance to meet her last June on the last day of school. Most of the kids from her class last year are in her class this year with the exception of a few troublemakers who were taken out. They were replaced with a few new troublemakers. But what's elementary school without a handful of troublemakers thrown in? She's one of the 5th graders now, so she's big girl on campus this year. They have their own wing of the school, they get lockers although they won't use them in the traditional sense because they don't change classes and need to store books. But it's an intermediate step between elementary school and middle school and makes them feel grown up. Patricia wanted to decorate her locker so we went to Staples and got a locker caddy like Margaret has. Small price to pay for harmony. So, we're back to schedules and regiments. There's something comforting about that, but it's also a nod and acknowledgement that summer is over. All too fast.

Brigid didn't seem too troubled over the change in schedule and the loss of her summer babysitters. It might be too soon for her to realize the girls aren't a constant in her life anymore. I went to Clinton Community College the other day to scope out their day-care center because they accept part-time kids. The center here at Plattsburgh State accepts full-time only. When Margaret and Patricia went there, they had a different program. The Clinton program is promising and they'll let us know if they have space for Brigid within a few weeks. Until then, we have to adjust our schedules so Jack can get to work at a reasonable hour. We've been fortunate not to have to have the baby in day care full time. But when I told Jack I had been to Clinton to investigate, he said, "You're trying to take my baby away from me." He has a routine he follows with Brigid and it may be difficult for him to relinquish that.

When I was driving in to work this morning, I was thinking about Brigid's vocabulary for some reason. It dawned on me that she doesn't have the typical almost-18-month-old's retinue of "words," or sounds meant to be words. She doesn't say Ba-ba or wa-wa or bay-bee, some of the things I wrote down in both Margaret and Patricia's books (although when she's in the tub, she'll occasionally say wa-wa when I say it first). She says whole words: ball, keys, Blue (Blues Clues), Hello?, Daddy, Hi, Some? (for more). I have heard of some parents who said their children didn't speak until they were two or three, and then they spoke in complete sentences. Brigid gets her points across very well, but she doesn't say many of the typical things. She also makes these sounds with her throat and mouth that have me believing she's actually a Hassidic Jewish Irish girl. Oh, well, L'Chaim, everyone.