I couldn’t let Mike’s post stand. I called up a friend and arranged a trip to Dodger Stadium. Annie hadn’t been to a game since she was a few months old, and since she is less than six years away from her big decision, I can’t ever let up. I pulled out the big guns…clothes.

Yep, I bought her branded gear she could twirl in…and she loved it.

When we arrived at the stadium I took a picture with my girl right outside my old office.

We got there with plenty of time before the game, so we watched batting practice. Annie was totally into it – she couldn’t stop staring at the players.

She had plenty of snacks, and then it was time for the game to start. We had great seats (thank you, Dave!)

Annie is so hilarious – instead of being frightened by the loud crowd, she feeds off of it. When the crowd would groan, she would too. When they cheered, she would high-five.

She was really loving the Dodgers, but I had to make sure the good will lasted…somehow this adorable “Baby Dodger Bear,” found its way into Annie’s hands.

I am not above bribery!

It clearly worked:

She also thought the beach balls that went around the stands were the coolest things ever. I am FIRMLY anti-beach ball. If you want to play with a beach ball, go to the beach! But Annie thought it was so fun, and wanted to catch it. The girls a few rows back actually caught it once and handed it to her. The look of happiness on her face, while adorable, did nothing to change my anti-beach ball position. Especially when she got very, very upset when the ball didn’t come back her way.

I might have also bought her a zip-up hoodie, shush.

Luckily, Gramma distracted her with a glasses case, and all was right in her world again.

Honestly though, the best part was when she looked over at me and said, “Mama, I luff baseball.”

Mike and I both agree that more than anything, we hope she enjoys the sport that her daddy and I love so much. As long as she likes baseball, who cares which team she chooses?

(I care. I care a lot. So much that next time, I’m gonna arrange for her to meet a player and run on the field. Sorry you didn’t used to work for the Giants, Mike.)

(I WILL WIN THIS!)

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I took a red-eye flight to Miami on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. I’m here for just a quick trip – I’m participating in a conference – and will leave early, on Friday night, to fly directly to San Francisco. Jackie!’s annual brain tumor walk is Saturday morning and I wouldn’t miss it. It’s a lot of travel but I’m glad I will be able to make it all work.

Before I left on Tuesday night, Annie was in rare form. She insisted I brush her hair while I sang “Pwincess songs.” Since she normally screams and fights me the entire time I try to comb her hair, I jumped at the rare opportunity to brush her hair in a calm environment.  She then noticed the dress I was wearing and asked to change into one. Then, she asked me to twirl with her. It was all very girlie and cute.

As I was leaving, I gave her a kiss and a hug and said, “Bye Annie, I love you.” “PWINCESS Annie,” she corrected me.

“Have fun playing dress up with Pwincess Annie,” I said to Mike. “Oh, I will,” he replied.

A few hours ago I got an email from Mike with the subject line, “Playing Dress Up With Pwincess Annie.” I was not expecting the pictures that were attached.

His email said: Annie found my laundry and brought this shirt out to me saying, ‘Annie wear it?! Puh-lease?’ How could I resist her wanting to look like her Daddy? We played “Office” and she fired lots of people. She’s brutal.

I laughed and wrote back: And the tie?

The tie completes the outfit Heather, come on.

Mike doesn’t realize that Annie is still being quite fashion-forward with her shirt dress. He got off easy in this round of dress up – it’s only a matter of time before she puh-leases him into wearing a dress himself.

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Yesterday we took Rigby to the groomer for a much-needed haircut. Annie had gone with us to the groomer plenty of times, but this time she took an interest. “Mama, what we doing?” She asked. ”Rigby is getting cleaned up!” I replied. “Oh…Rigby take a shower?” “Yes! And she’s going to get a haircut, just like Mama.” Annie nodded her head very seriously.

After we left the groomer I buckled Annie into her car seat, and that’s when she suddenly realized someone was missing. “Wait, Mama! Rigby!” I put the car in reverse while Annie yelled, “RIGBY! RIIIIGBY NOOOO!” As we drove away I explained that it was OK, we weren’t staying for Rigby’s shower and hair cut, but we’d be back soon to pick her up. This didn’t really please her. It was like a scene out of Not Without My Daughter.

I had a bunch of errands to run, and after each stop Annie would say, “Go get Rigby now?” I had to keep telling her, “No baby, not yet.” When we pulled up to our house she FLIPPED OUT. “Rigby! RIIIIIIGBY!” There were lots of tears. I was perplexed…she’d never reacted this way before.

In an attempt to chill her out, I asked Annie if she wanted to watch a Princess movie to take her mind off things. She sniffled, “No…want to watch doggie movie with Lady.” I put on “Lady and the Tramp” and when Lady came on the screen she said, “Just like Rigby…I love Rigby.” She was killing me.

After about an hour we got a call that Rigby was ready, so Mike went to pick her up. Annie and I were playing in her room when Rigby came barreling in. She jumped up and put her paws on Annie’s chest and licked her face.

“RIGBY! Oh, Rigby, so beautiful!”

I’ve never seen the two of them so happy to be with each other.

I’m sure that will change tomorrow.

© COPYRIGHT HEATHER SPOHR 2012 All rights reserved. This content may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.

People ask about my tattoo sometimes. My answer depends on who is asking and what kind of mood I’m in. I can simply say, “I like music” when I don’t want to get into it all, or I can go into the whole story. Most of the time I keep it to myself. Usually the people who ask have no idea that I lost a child, and sometimes I prefer to keep it that way. Sometimes it’s nice to not be treated like a sad, pitiable grieving mother.

Annie has noticed my tattoo plenty of times in the past, but recently she asked, “What’s this?” while looking at it. I tried to keep my answer as simple as possible and told her it’s my Maddie mark, and that I like to touch it and think about Maddie. Often, Annie will ask to kiss it, then bend forward and carefully put her lips on my wrist. That’s not something I’ve ever done – Annie did it entirely on her own.

Annie’s interest in my Maddie mark has only grown as she has gotten a better understanding of Maddie. She loves to watch videos of her sister and is enthralled by the photos of Maddie in our hallway, so much so that she often kisses them as I carry her past.

A few days ago Annie was once again examining my Maddie mark when she surprised me by asking, “Where’s my Maddie?”

At first I told her she didn’t have one, only Mommy did, but as the day went on she kept asking about it.

“Annie want a Maddie?” she begged. “Please?”

After the fifth or sixth time of her asking this I looked down at  her little face which was so hopeful. After a moment of thought I relented, grabbed a pen, and drew on her wrist.

When I finished Annie stared at her Maddie mark a long moment, then lifted it to her face and kissed her wrist.

She’s been showing her wrist to everyone she encounters. It’s washed off a few times and she’s flipped out, so I’ve drawn it back on again. I’ve watched her playing by herself, and she’ll even show it to her dolls.

I hope drawing the design on her wrist was the right thing to do. Right now she’s too little to understand what happened to her family before she was born. The significance of my tattoo is lost on her right now. I just hope this will be one of the little things that helps her feel like she’s always known and understood Maddie’s story, and not something that will confuse her. It’s a difficult thing for anyone to understand, and even though I know I’m doing the best I can, I still worry constantly that it’s not good enough.

© COPYRIGHT HEATHER SPOHR 2012 All rights reserved. This content may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.

Hey party peeps!

Annabel here. I’m breaking my blog silence to talk to you about something very important to me – birthdays. More specifically, how I think I should get to celebrate one every day. My mama, however, has brutally rebuffed this idea, and this is why I’m coming to all of you.

Ever since I celebrated Rigby’s birthday last December, I have been completely into birthdays. My mama says I’m obsessed, but I don’t like the negative tone that word implies. Then it was my cousin Spencer’s birthday, my daddy’s birthday, and then it was my birthday, and then my cousin Danny’s birthday…it was celebration-city around here. And you know what? I got used to it.

What’s not to love? Singing is awesome. I know all the words to Happy Birthday. Blowing out candles is super-rad, it’s the closest I’ve ever been allowed to fire. And tied for most-awesome, cake and presents. Man, if I could somehow eat cake off of presents, it would be the best thing that ever happened.

But then one day, I woke up and said to my mama, “Happy birthday party?” And she said, “No Annie, no birthdays for a while.”

Are…you…kidding…me? That was completely unacceptable. So I formulated a plan. I would just every so slyly drop, “Happy birthday!” into conversation, and the people around me would be tricked into giving me cake. It was foolproof.

The first time I tried it, my daddy and I were watching SportsCenter. I climbed up next to him and said, “Hi Dada! Happy birthday, Dada! Sing song now? Hap-py birth-day, daaaaddyyyyy. Blow out candles now? Eat cake?” My daddy looked at me like I’d just recited 100 digits of Pi. “Annie! That’s so cute! We don’t have cake, but how about some ice cream?!”

Man, he is so easy! Turning 16 around him will be awesome.

But my mom you guys…she’s proving to be much harder. I tried my same move on her. “Mama! Happy birthday, Mama! Blow out candles! Eat cake!”  I started to sing, but she interrupted me quicker than Kanye interrupted Taylor Swift. “It’s not my birthday for a few more months, honey. We’ll have cake then!”  I got mad, and she knew it. Probably because I also yelled, “NO! Birthday now! Annie eat cake! Mama’s birthday! Annie’s birthday!” I totally lost my cool, you guys.

I’m just a kid, so I’m not great with the poker face yet.

I keep trying to wear her down. Every morning I greet her with, “Happy birthday, Mama!” but she seems totally unimpressed with my cuteness. I don’t understand! Why doesn’t she want to have cake every day? When I’m a grown up, I’ll eat cake for every meal.

My mama says that birthdays are special and are only celebrated once a year. I think that’s poop! I want to celebrate birthdays every day! A vote for Team Annie means cake for everyone, and a new bag of plastic choking hazards every day.

Happy birthday! Peace out!

~Annie

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Annie always notices when I get a manicure or pedicure. She usually drops to her knees and yells, “ooooh, princess toes!” I’ve painted my fingernails at home lately, and Annie sits there next to me and stares and asks questions. “Gonna color your fingers, Mama? Get princess fingers?” I don’t really get the whole princess connection other than Annie dubs anything pretty, “princess.” The other day, Mike made her some beautiful princess toast.

It was only a matter of time before she started asking me to paint her nails. I kept putting her off, because I didn’t have any polish that was safe for her. Yesterday I was heading out to run errands and before I left Annie grabbed my hand and said, “Mama? Today Annie gets princess fingers? Please?” How could I say no to that? I was princess toast.

I found her some polish at Toys R Us. When I got home, the first thing she said to me was, “Princess fingers, mama?” The kid forgets nothing. I sat her down in her folding chair and she was so ridiculously excited.

She kept saying, “Look Dada! Princess toes! LOOK! LOOK!”

When she wasn’t smiling for Mike, she was very serious.

Making sure I don’t mess up

I told her she had to be very careful because her fingers and toes were wet, and she didn’t want to ruin them. It was probably the longest she’s ever sat still.

Having me inspect her nails

Blowing on her nails to dry them

The polish was cheap (like $1.19), and it barely left any color on her fingers. But she doesn’t care – she thinks her fingers and toes are the coolest things EVER.

Showing Mike our princess fingers.

For the rest of the day, I caught her looking at her fingers and toes a dozen times. At one point we video chatted with my parents and she told them all about how “Annie has princess fingers like Mama!” It’s so obvious, but it never occurred to me that she wanted her nails painted because mine were – I just thought she liked the sparkle. And even though it’s frivolous, it makes me happy.

(She spent the rest of the night chasing Mike around, trying to convince him he needed princess fingers and toes, too.)

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Toddlers are known for being difficult, but man, sometimes they can really be little psychopaths. A couple of days ago, Annie came up to me and said, “Oh mama, pretty princess hair, Annie braid it!” and started running her hands through my hair. I was smiling at her sweetness when she suddenly grabbed a handful of hair and yanked it. I yelped in pain, but instead of looking chagrined she laughed and did it again. I know I’m probably not supposed to react, but damn, it hurts. And she needs to know that deliberately hurting people is not OK. At that point I warned her that if she did it again, she’d get a time out, and about ten seconds later I was hauling her off to time out.

The whole day was like that. We’d be doing something fun – pretend manicures, coloring, playing princess – and then she’d push the boundaries and test me until I had no choice but to put her in time out. Sometimes she was upset at the end of her punishment, but most of the time she looked at me like this, annoyed by the whole thing.

By the end of the night, I’d seriously had enough. I read her bedtime story with little inflection, gave her my kisses, and then started to tuck her in, like I always do. “NO! NO tuck in!” She shouted back to me. Completely irritated at this point, I lost my temper and said, “Fine, Annie. Good. Night.” As I started to walk away I heard, “Mama? Mama, I loooooove you. I love you Mama!!”

I walked back and leaned into her crib, where she was looking back up at me with those big wide eyes. “I love you too, Annie.” I wanted to apologize for being short with her, but I didn’t. She wouldn’t have understood, and it wouldn’t have made me feel any better. I rubbed her cheeks and kissed her hands, and then I left her room.

I don’t know why I am the one she’s constantly testing. It’s frustrating to be the one she pushes, while she’s sweet and loving toward everyone else. It makes me wonder what I’ve done wrong, and it makes me feel like crap.

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I was supposed to fly up to San Francisco this weekend, but I had to cancel because I am surrounded by sick people. I’ve yet to be infected, but I can’t run the risk of getting Jackie! sick. I’m supposed to go up again in two weeks, but still. Suck.

Annie came down with sniffles on Sunday night. I originally thought it was from her teeth – her molars are coming in right now and really causing her some discomfort. But then she asked to cuddle with me, and after about ten minutes or so, she was asleep. Asleep! The child who hates sleep!

The next morning her nose was like a faucet, and Mike was flipping out.”We’re gonna get sick,” Mike said over and over. “I know it! I just know it!” Annie seemed perfectly happy, though. She still ran around, playing and eating and generally acting fine, other than saying every minute or so, “Wipe my nose, mama!” I was certain it was her teeth.

Then Mike got a man cold, so I had to tell Jackie! the situation. Boo.

I woke up last night to Annie crying because her nose was running while she slept. I went in to settle her and clean her up, and when I came back to my room I found Mike, in sweat pants and a sweat shirt, shivering in bed. He got up and turned on the heater, then piled blankets on top of himself. A few hours later, he was sweating and he turned on the air conditioning. Rigby and I didn’t love the abrupt climate changes.

Yesterday, Mike was laying on the couch, moaning. Annie climbed up next to him, patted his face, and said, ”Dada? Wake up? Come play!” Mike replied, “No Annie, Dada is sick.” Annie looked at him and said, “So?”

Sarcasm starts at age two, apparently.

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Annie is slowly, slooooowly breaking out of her shyness around strangers. It’s strange for me and Mike because we aren’t shy at all. We’re not sure if we should be forcing her to interact, or let her go at her own pace. So far we’ve mostly gone at her pace, with a few instances of forced interaction with parental guidance. It seems to be working, although yesterday we were at a three-hour birthday party, and Annie wanted to be held for two-thirds of it. Baby steps.

In contrast to this, I’ve noticed that Annie has been getting more confident physically. When we were in Arizona last month, her cousins were bouncing on the beds. At first Annie was standing off to the side, watching, but she eventually asked if she could also jump. I never thought I’d actually encourage a child of mine to jump on the bed, but she was being so timid and I wanted her to break out a bit.

As you can see, she took it very seriously.

Last week my parents and I took Annie to the playground near our house. She liked running around on the grass and sitting on my lap on the swing, but she was hesitant to climb up the stairs of the play structures without me holding her hand. I climbed with her a bit at first, hoping she’d get comfortable, but she got nervous when she saw the only way down was the slide. I went down with her first to show her it was fun. She wanted me to keep sliding with her, but these playground slides are not made for women with childbearing hips. My dad and I started lifting her to the top of the slide, and then we’d hold onto her waist and slide her down. It was going well until she said, “NO. Annie do it.”

I was so happy to hear that she wanted to try it herself. My dad stood next to her and my mom and I stood at the bottom of the slide. My dad placed her at the top and let go. She sat there for a minute, clutching the sides, and then slowly eased herself down.

When she got to the bottom, she sat there for a minute and then said, “Again!”

I was so happy that she did something she’d previously thought was too scary. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses, because I might have teared up like a dork. My cautious girl was being bold!

By the end of our time at the playground, she went down the slide dozens of times. On the last trip down, she only held on with one hand.

Baby steps.

It’s this weird parenting line that we’re straddling. I want her to be confident and outgoing, but not so outgoing that she runs up to strangers. I want her to challenger herself and try new things, but I don’t want her scaling bookcases. How am I supposed to know when to push and when to hold her back?

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A milestone I’ve been dreading for a long time seems to be upon us: Annie is starting to give up her afternoon nap. If you’re like me you’re thinking, “But she’s barely two, how is this madness happening?” and the answer is I DON’T KNOW. It’s awful. She hasn’t completely stopped napping, but the days when she sleeps in the afternoon are becoming few and far between.

Back in the salad days.

She still needs a nap. The last couple hours before her bedtime are bruuuuutal. And as much as I’d like to, I can’t put her to bed at 6pm…mostly because she’d then wake up at 4am. I avoid 4am whenever possible.  No afternoon naps mean my house is more of a disaster than usual, my kid is a disagreeable cranky-face, and *I* am a disagreeable cranky-face. Mike and Rigby are forced to hide from us.

I’ve tried keeping her routine the same, but she just ends up standing in her crib, calling to be taken out. I’ve tried changing the time of the nap, with similar results. I’ve tried putting her on my treadmill and having her jog for thirty minutes (just kidding).  I think I just have to accept that nap time will soon be a distant memory. SOB.

I have friends who’ve had lots of success with quiet time instead of nap time, but Annie doesn’t really seem to grasp the concept. Her favorite activities involve singing loudly, talking excitedly, and being around people. Quiet time does not allow for those things, therefore, she does not want to participate in quiet time.

I guess for now I will still try to get her to take a nap, because the days that she  does nap are glorious. Man, what is wrong with kids? Why don’t they understand how awesome sleeping is? I would kill for an unrestricted nap in the middle of the day.

© COPYRIGHT HEATHER SPOHR 2012 All rights reserved. This content may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.