Happy Birthday Dave

Dave isn't really into birthdays and today is his birthday. I think he would rather forget (and did forget--as evidenced yesterday when his brother called him a day early and wished him a happy birthday which convinced him that yesterday must have been his birthday). I, on the other hand, love birthdays. Not huge affairs, but just low key wishes for the next year. In honor of Dave, I coaxed Claire in between naps to say "Happy Birthday Daddy", but the closest she got was a close approximation to each word individually and Dave only heard the birthday part, but I do think she realized there was something different about today for daddy.

During Claire's naps, I spent the rest of the time thinking of Dave and all the things I love about him. My thoughts all boiled down to this question, "How in the world did I get this guy to choose me?" I am so grateful to have him and to spend another year with him. He is such an easy person to be around and I can hardly wait until the end of the day to tell him stories, try to make him laugh, hypothesize with him, snuggle with him, or just watch him interacting with my girl. I love, love, love this man.

Adrenaline

For the last few weeks Dave has been talking about how guys need adrenaline. The conversation started after an eventful evening at MnS's house. Luke, their five-year-old had spotted a baby sidewinder rattle snake over their back fence. Before I knew it the rattle snake was caught, in the house and in a somewhat secure place. Dave and his brother spent the evening warning the kids about the dangers of snakes and even looked up the rattle snake on-line to find out how venomous they are. 

I kept nagging Dave that it was time to let the snake go, but every time I checked the snake was still there. Later that night when the kids were "safe" in their beds I overheard Dave and his brother from the other room bragging about how if the kids weren't around all night they would have picked the snake up. They must have looked around themselves and realized that they were kid free because about five minutes after I overheard this conversation I wandered into the kitchen and Dave was holding the rattle snake. The kids who were "safe" in their beds overheard the gleeful cries when Dave picked up the snake and came running. So much for teaching the kids snake safety and appropriate distance. The last thing I remember is screaming out, "This is what happens when you marry a redneck!"

The next morning Dave called me from work just to check if I didn't think it was even the least bit "sexy" that he had picked up a rattler the night before. Just for the record, I still don't think it is sexy. 

Fast forward to last night, where Dave was still extolling the merits of the adrenaline rush. He explained that guys just need to get their heart racing to feel alive from time to time. Ten minutes later I found Dave in the backyard (at 11pm) tying water balloons. He had a wonderful idea to lob them over our backyard fence onto the road. The water balloon practice had a specific purpose as he wanted to catch his brother in a water balloon volley on his way home from work. I practiced with Dave a couple of times and then Dave said he was going to show me how close he could get to a car without hitting it. A few seconds later Dave had hit a passing car with the water balloon and two very angry 20 something guys had jumped out of the car. Dave, in his typical charismatic way tried to diffuse the situation with a smile, a chuckle and a quick explanation. The guys simply weren't in the listening mood and before I knew it a hail storm of rocks were being lobbed at us over the fence. I quickly took cover inside and turned out all the lights. 

After a bit of a screaming match outside, Dave went to patrol the front yard to make sure there was no retribution and after seeing the guys circling the neighborhood called the police. The police arrived and he had to explain that, yes, he is a 35-year-old man throwing water balloons at 11pm at night. 

Adrenaline. And for the record, Dave did look a little sexy protecting our house after the water balloon drama.

Ghetto Pool

Last night, Dave came running in the house yelling, "Tara, grab the camera!". Which is code for come as quickly as you can with Cannon in your hand, Claire is doing something exceptionally cute. Come to think of it, when is the last time someone said "Grab the camera!" and came to take a picture of you. Maybe that is why Claire is confident and self-assured, it must feel pretty fine to be the center of so much adoration. Anyway, I ran outside and saw Claire taking a dip in what Dave called her "Ghetto Pool". She was so adorable I couldn't resist posting these pics. 

Remember when I said I didn't want to have one of those blogs where you only talk/brag/post pics about your kids, well, this is the point that I eat crow. I am officially one of those bloggers that only talks/brags/posts pics about my kid. I just can't resist, my little Claire is the biggest charm, most of the time (refer to Exorcist post). I promise I will attempt to post a thought-provoking non-Claire centered post in the near future, unless Dave comes yelling, "Tara, grab the camera!"

Claire in her swimming pail finding joy in small spaces.

Trying to squeeze the five-pound diaper into that small space.

At some point--thanks to the five-pound diaper--clothes just became too burdensome.

I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet

Yesterday, Dave, Claire and I went to the OBGYN's office to take a peek at our little one and find out if we are having a boy or a girl. As soon as the ultrasound lit up, our wee started moving. It was fun to see the baby's arms and legs kicking around while the tech took measurements. Then came the moment we had been waiting for, the tech asked us if we wanted to know the sex of the baby and Dave and I in unison responded with a resounding, "Of course!". Pregnant pause. I swear, just as the words "Hmmm, it's a..." start slipping out of the tech's mouth, I felt the earth move under my feet. The blinds started swaying and the ground rumbling. It was an earthquake--5.4 on the Richter scale. Yikes! Luckily, the hospital is on rollers and there was no damage, but our tech was very distracted and talked about the quake for a couple of minutes and then went and checked on the office to make sure everyone was okay. She returned in about five minutes, with the news that everyone was indeed okay and that our little one is a GIRL, who may just have a flair for the dramatic.

On a side note, the night before the ultrasound Dave asked Claire if we were having a boy or a girl baby and Claire said very assuredly, "girl". I have never heard her say the word boy or girl before, so maybe Claire knew something that we didn't. We can't wait to meet our new little lady.

My Little Angel

I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday for blood work. Dreading the long wait and then the inevitable prick of the needle, I thought I would take Claire along for a little distraction and company. Knowing that she might prove to be a distraction to everyone, I came armed with her stroller--otherwise know as a restraint device--books, treats and a sippy cup. Much to my surprise Claire was a perfect angel. In the waiting room another couple even pointed her out to their unruly three year as a model child. Of course I was beaming and did a great job of pretending that she is always so calm and peaceful. Much to my pleasure her new found tranquility even lasted into my appointment with the nurse.

The nurse got right down to business and didn't waste any time telling me how well-behaved my Claire was being. I almost pointed it out, but thought that might tip her off that Claire is not always so well-mannered in social situations. The nurse found a vein pronto and jabbed the largest needle into my arm (I have a huge bruise to prove the size it). I flinched and clenched my teeth and then Claire grabbed my attention. She was sitting in her stroller looking very concerned at me and then at the needle and then without any guile on her little face she boldly held up her thin arm and laid it bare for the nurse as if to say "Take me". I am telling you, I don't know if I could have loved my little one any more than I did just then. In that minute, she quit masquerading as a human. My little angel, I love her, love her, love her.

Memory (blog style)

Okay, so I copied this from a friend (Emma) verbatim (I'll admit I'm being a lazy poster lately). And just knew it was a brilliant idea when a well-respected friend (Julie) gave me the same idea on the same day I read Emma's post.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I (or you and Dave, or you and Claire) had together. It doesn't matter if you knew us a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

Daddy's Girl

Claire has been a little obsessed with "daddy" lately. It started a few weeks ago, intensified when we went on vacation to Utah and then heated up even more when Dave went back to California and we stayed behind. She adores him, idolizes him and can't wait to spend time with him. A perfect way to illustrate this for you is to explain how she calls for us. When she wants Dave's attention puts on a perky smile and in her best sing-song voice in her cutest little girl tone, says "Dah-dee". When Claire wants my attention, she looks at me demandingly, gestures her arms emphatically and says in a perfect Long Island whiny accent, "Mawh!" Crazily enough, both are equally adorable and endearing and make us jump to attention.

Claire has also spotted symbols for her daddy everywhere--little tokens that remind her of him. Here are just a few. The first one Claire spied on a telephone pole outside side the grocery store, Dave calls this his "mother's milk" and is often, much to my chagrin, spotted with one in hand. When she saw it she excitedly yelled out, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!!!"

The second symbol, Claire spotted in the grocery store again accompanied by a "Daddy" chorus of squeals. Dad's deodorant has become one of Claire's favorite toys. She likes to rummage through the bathroom drawers, clutch onto the deodorant with a monkey-like vice grip and then run like mad, knowing that I will chase her before she gets even a nibble out of the appealing blue surface.

The third token of Dad was adopted after Dave tore down a 19th century family home that was on his parent's property with a track hoe. I took Claire out to see Dave run the track hoe several times and she even got a ride on it. After Dave left town, I was in the backyard with her at my dad's house and she saw a track hoe in a lot a few yards down and for 15 minutes called out for dad in her perfectly perfect daddy singsong while waving her hands. 

Unfortunately, my little daddy's girl does not have any symbols for "Mawh" yet, but I am sure when she adopts them it will be something really exciting like toilet bowl cleaner, or broccoli, or maybe even dental floss.