Hmmm...where to begin....there are just so many that come to mind. Like the 3 1/2 hour road trip we recently took to Oklahoma where she 'yelled' at us the entire way. If I wasn't appeasing her with food offerings or constantly turning around to pick up the book she threw on the floor for the 16th time, she would be showing us her disapproval with this whole trip idea using her voice, only with no words attached. But then I realize that she is only 13 months old, cannot communicate via 'normal' words like the rest of us and needs to be able to get her point across somehow. However, after about the 2nd hour of me being twisted around in the front seat facing Chloe in the back seat all the while singing such lovely traveling songs as "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "ABC's", I really didn't care about her communication problem as much as I cared about the crick in my neck and the cramp in my back. The minute I turned to sit in my seat the proper way, I was quickly reprimanded with an ear piercing cry that reminded me that life, right now, is not about my comfort, but hers - and hers only. Lesson learned - forgo any and all car rides that exceed the distance of 30 miles and or 30 minutes.
This next one is rather fun, but gets old after a while....Everyday, multiple times a day at that, Chloe goes into my closet, finds a pair of shoes she would like for me to wear and brings one out and insists I put it on my foot, right then. She is quite insistent - she will not be ignored. She holds the shoe up to me and says, "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.......ad nausium" until I relent and put it on. The entire sequence repeats itself with the second shoe. I'm very thankful that she always gives me matching shoes though, it could be worse. I never experienced this with my boys. They could have (and still do) really care less about what I am or am not wearing. Lesson learned - put shoes on at the beginning of the day and never, ever take them off - comfort is not the important thing - consistency and style is. I especially look good wearing my pajamas with my sneakers in the morning.
A more recent 'adventure' occurred last night....I could possibly be receiving the 'bad mother of the year' award for this one. I need to preface this with...Chloe just learned to walk, unassisted, this past week. She feels she has mastered the art of walking and really has no use for my constant supervision anymore. The scene begins like this...Chuck just arrived home from work and is back in our bedroom changing into his 'play clothes', the boys are upstairs playing 'super cat' (yet another superhero invention), I am sitting at the computer (right next to the stairway and Chloe- key point) checking emails and our lovely little star (Chloe) is 'supposedly' behind me playing. At least she was 10 seconds ago.
Chuck comes walking out to the front room where I and my little daughter were supposed to be and asks "Where's Chloe?" A very innocent question that should not produce terror in the heart of a mother. We run around the entire bottom level of the house searching for our suspiciously quiet daughter who was not to be found anywhere. We both look at the stairs simultaneously and in disbelief shake our heads no, as if to say "she couldn't have". How naive we were. Independent doesn't even begin to describe Chloe.
Our stairway is very open and large. There are 8 stairs before you reach a landing, then 8 more bring you successfully up to the second floor. We climb the stairs three at a time. My mind is already producing ghastly images of my poor daughter. We reach the top in record time and ask the boys "Have you seen Chloe?" Very nonchalantly, Gavin answered, "Yeah, she went that way." Okay, first of all I wanted to go off on Gavin....like, is this a common occurrence, do you always see your sister climb the steps and walk around the corner by herself, this didn't set off any alarms in your developing brain that would trigger you to yell with all your might for your mother or father? None of those thoughts left my mind, however, because she is my responsibility, but you've got to wonder what was going through his mind.
Anyways, we look in her room, she's not there. Then we look in the bathroom. Finally, we find her leaning against the wall next to the tub like this is her regular hangout. To top it off, she has a purple marker in her hand that she is busily chewing on. My heart stops pounding once we find her safe and sound. Then the reality of what she's done sets in and I give her a very stern "no, no, Chloe". For a second, she looked at me as if she might cry, wetness even entered her eyes, but then her mighty resolve set in and she sucked it up and just stared at me. Ooooh, the battle of wills - this is fun.
I would love to say we solved the problem by just erecting a nice little gate at the bottom of our stairway, but that would be impossible because of it's architecture. So, for the time being, Chloe and I are permanently attached. Lesson learned - don't check emails unless I put her in the crib or some other securely enclosed area.
