What the heck happened to the first year of my baby’s life? It went faster than my legs on their way to lunch at In N Out (that toasted bun, man). I legit could not keep up with all events and milestones and monthiversaries. And the minute I wanted to really slow down and soak it all in, my household was sick with a bug during the days leading up to Arielle’s birthday.

It didn’t help, too, that I was stressed out from planning a party while nursing Bryan back to health and crossing every bone in my body that I didn’t get sick, too. I am proud to say that I never did, but Madelyn did get fevers that were more fickle than ping pong balls at a tournament, and finally ended up with an ear infection. So, enjoying those final days with my baby as a baby was pretty difficult. I wallowed, yes, and even though I knew Arielle would never know that her actual first birthday on March 4th pretty much sucked, I was sad that memories of her first days with us were upstaged by thermometers and popsicles being juggled through the house.

We did enjoy a “happy birthday” song at preschool after I dropped off Madelyn. Arielle and I sat on the bimah and Madelyn was her spokesperson (business as usual), sharing her name and age with the crowd. Arielle didn’t have a total meltdown during her 15 seconds of fame, so I call that a win. That was the highlight of the day.

Shortly after, Madelyn came home from school with a very sudden fever and I yelled a lot of swear words about that. There was no special outing or birthday dinner for Arielle. I don’t think I even had time to get emotional like I normally would because I was so busy Florence Nightingale-ing it up. Maybe that’s a good thing. Thanks, germs, for the distraction.

I will share that on her first birthday, Arielle woke up with 2.5 teeth and those teeth are really helping get that food to her belly, because the chunk was finally starting to roll out. Her weigh-in was 19.5 pounds and while she’d once been a petite lil thing, she jumped from 9-month clothes to 12-month clothes almost over night.

By 12 months, her crawling was non-stop with no desire to choose to walk instead. Shrug. Whatevs. When Arielle climbs up the stairs on all fours, she swears she’s reached the top of Mt. Everest.

Blowing kisses and clapping and waving and giving high-5s were all of her mastered party tricks. She also suddenly became aware of bows and headbands on her head (boooo) and started to show her dissatisfaction with these accessories (Madelyn went through the same thing at the same age and now look at her! Accessory whore! She doesn’t want to take off a tiara to wash her hair).

At 12 months, Arielle’s favorite foods are fruits, veggies, grains, dairy, and fats. Yes. The entire pyramid. The girl is a bottomless pit. She just does not stop eating. One day she may become a picky eater because I’ve seen this movie before, but right now, she just loves food. I do too. But the rolls on my thighs are not nearly as cute.

I managed to get a few snaps of Arielle on her first birthday.

Two days after her birthday, it was party time. Bryan was finally recovered and Madelyn’s fever couldn’t make up its mind about staying or going. She had no other symptoms other than a fever that I would later find out was due to an ear infection. I quarantined her to her room for most of the party just to be on the safe side, and we were all so sad about it. I wanted to celebrate my littlest baby, while wanting to ditch the party to cuddle with my biggest baby who was devastated to be missing out. Thankfully Princeton was like, “I’m fine. You’re welcome.”

Arielle loves to jam to music. Since the beginning, her little body has always grooved to any beat she hears, so I thought it was fitting to have a music gal come and do a big toddler music session. Amy Tibert of Rise & Sing put on a great little show and had all the kiddos dancing and playing. And since Arielle is such a bright and cheery presence, I threw together a loose rainbow hearts theme with the decor. It was a fun and crafty party for me to design. Lots of paper decorations and lots of sprinkles!

Party recaps are best done through photos, but these parties are always a labor of love and I secretly love-hate these big ones. I love having our family and friends together to celebrate my kiddo, but the work that goes into it makes me a crazy lady. I so appreciate my mom swooping in to lend me a hand when my usual party-planning partner was down for the count the week of the bash.

Who needs sleep when you can be making this sign into the wee hours of the night three days before the party?

So, I have this thing for banners.

Salty and sweet (just like the birthday girl) pretzel treats left my house sprinkles-y for days, but we/Princeton handled it just fine.

And P.S. — note to ovaries: thanks for deciding to get us pregnant in June and giving us a March baby which makes party planning a total nightmare because the battle of Indoor vs. Outdoor is uglier than anything you’d see on Game of Thrones. I was a wreck watching the weather, which, by the way, was gorgeous and perfect and sunny and in the 80s for two weeks before the party and then did the whole “Oh! It’s March! I forgot it’s supposed to be El Niño! Here’s the rain I must deliver!” So, indoor party with children and sugar … I’m such a glutton for punishment. I will say, though, that everything was fabulous, and everyone had a great time especially the little birthday girl herself.

The music was so fun for the kiddos as they played with different instruments and puppets and a parachute. Even the big kids were dancing and showing the little ones what to do.

Arielle got to sit in the middle of the parachute and she loved the breeze whooshing through her incoming wispy hair as we all sang “Happy Birthday” to her.

Madelyn observed from the balcony seating aka the stairs outside her room while Poppa and Grandpa took turns keeping her company.

Madelyn was fever-free and seemed to brighten up a bit, so she came down to check out the party just as Amy, the music leader gave all the kids a chance to sing “Happy Birthday” solos on the microphone. It was so sweet how a lot of Madelyn’s adorable preschool friends performed for the birthday girl who they all know and adore. I wasn’t sure if Madelyn was feeling the vibe, but she not only asked to sing, she did a rockstar job!

Hey, Seacrest. Get back on TV. Dim the lights. We have a new American Idol!

Once the music portion of the party was over, it was chow time for most of the guests and I finally got a chance to schmooze with all of our fabulous friends. I love having all my favorite people in our home to celebrate good times. There’s really nothing that makes me happier than fluttering around and visiting with all the wonderful families we’ve met in recent years from preschool and baby groups, or people we’ve known for what seems like forever from college or theater or our expanded family. It was during this portion of the party that I realized all the hard work was worth it.

Cousins Arielle and Jordan enjoy lunch with the original Friedman ladies.

Meeting new moms with Arielle has been so enjoyable. We have a good little group with cute kids and fun mamas.

And then it was cake time. Or, as Arielle might have described it: BORINGZZZZZZZZZ. She was quite underwhelmed.

That’s right. Who participated in the most disappointing cake smash ever? Arielle Jane Friedman. Yup. She looked at her cake like, “Oh how nice,” and then couldn’t be bothered to dig in. The girl who shoots up milk like she’s a Breaking Bad character and the girl who can’t. stop. eating. bagels was negative 72 enthused about eating sugary bread with sugar goo and colorful sugared crunchies. So for anyone who considers first birthday cake smashes a spectator sport, this was a disappointing display. Instead, my generous babe dipped her finger into the frosting and tried to feed it to ME. I mean, I didn’t mind, but I was fresh off a Whole30 and didn’t want to steal her spotlight with my own personal adult cake smash. So instead, we looked like a couple on their wedding day, delicately feeding each other cake. Oh and since she hardly touched it, I spent the next three days finishing it myself. (Whole30, what?)

She didn’t understand why we light our food on fire.

Perhaps it was because I was emotionally unstable and losing my mind while singing my girl “Happy Birthday” with 70 of our closest friends and family that Arielle was silently judging me.

Sentimental she was not. Arielle was all business.
Fun fact: this is the only photo of the 4 of us from the entire party.

“VAT EES THEES DEES-GUSTING SHTUFF EEN MY FEENGERS? SAVAGES! GET ME A VIPE.”

After this, we went to Hawaii on our honeymoon.

Eventually she got a little more into it once she realized that cake is really delicious. Thank goodness. I was about to start doing DNA tests to make sure she was actually my daughter.

Then the bride baby cheated on me and did romantic cake exchanges with Bryan.

And that’s that. The infancy stage of motherhood is over. No more babies in this house. To say I was super emotional about that for weeks before her birthday is an understatement. But now that we’ve crossed the other side, it’s fine. She didn’t turn into a toddler overnight. In fact, Arielle is still very much a baby since she isn’t walking and doesn’t have any words for communication yet. She seems to be on her older sister’s heels of developmental milestones, and I’m OK with that. She’s on Arielle time, and for now, it’s still baby o’clock. And as long as she’ll let me, I’ll kiss her and nuzzle her and enjoy her soft skin and clean perfume.

A year with Arielle has been a delight and even though she keeps us on our toes with a feisty attitude and a decisive sense of determination, she’s still our silly little cuddle bug who’s brought so much joy to our completed family. Happy first birthday, Arielle. We are all crazy about you.

Wednesday marks eight weeks of an accomplishment I never thought I’d make.

Before she was born, I knew I wanted the experience of breastfeeding Arielle, It’s what I’d planned to do with Madelyn, but I had to stop early due to the infection at the C-section site. As she grew, I remained sad about not having the opportunity to breastfeed and harbored a lot of anger toward the doctor who dismissed my suspicion that something was wrong with me. I knew that if we ever had another child, I would attempt breastfeeding again.

I don’t really know why it was so important to me. After all, I am not even against formula or claim in any way that it’s poison. Thank goodness for formula! It’s what nourished and grew my happy and healthy first child who rarely suffers illnesses, accomplished milestones ahead of or on time, eased into developmental transitions, and continues to outsmart us in almost every area of life.

Still, though, I longed for the experience that formula can’t give; the utter (udder?) mammalian connection between mother and biological child.

So when it was time to feed Arielle about an hour into her life in the outside world, I was essentially starting over. The nurse helped us latch, gave me tips about positioning, and explained to me what I should listen and look for. As the days went on and I was able to move better and better, we continued to establish a breastfeeding relationship. It was simple at first, but then became more and more painful. Nurses said our latch looked fine, and I was told I was doing it right, but I should just keep nursing and power through the pain that would leave within the week as my body became used to all the new sensations and activity. So I did. In the bubble of the hospital, I learned how to breastfeed Arielle.

Milk came in the day before we were discharged so on top of all kinds of lightning-like pain, I suffered some pretty intense engorgement. Our wonderful pediatrician came in one morning to do her routine assessment on Arielle, and we giggled together as I greeted her with pillows of ice across my chest.

I don’t know how I did it, but I just kept telling myself to keep on keeping on.

Our first night home was a disaster. I’m still looking to meet the mom who hasn’t cried on her first night home from the hospital. Are you out there, Miracle Woman? Do you exist? Has anyone ever had a peaceful night without tears the day the baby comes home? Between hormones and the absence of the safety net of the wonderful nurses, I lost it. The pain suddenly increased and I was noticing blood and scabbing. The engorgement seemed out of control, and I swore I was going to float away like the house in “Up” due to the balloons under my shirt. The discomfort and the resulting crying baby left me in a puddle of tears from The Ugly Cry.

Twelve hours later, I had a lactation consultant in my house.

She taught me how to latch differently. She inspected my breasts. She assessed Arielle’s anatomy. Even though my face was still puffy from hours of crying, I began to feel better about having this personal support at my fingertips six days after Arielle’s arrival. She did notice, however, that Arielle’s tongue didn’t seem to wiggle out past her gums. And after additional inspection, she decided that Arielle was tongue tied; that her frenulum (the tissue that connects the tongue to the bottom of the mouth) was tight and preventing the tongue from making the necessary movements to suck and swallow correctly. I learned that this is very common, but usually goes undiagnosed if the baby is not breastfed because it’s the uncomfortable experience that brings attention to the tongue tie. If the baby is not breastfed, later in life, the child or adult might have issues with range of motion, speech, behavior, or ear, nose, and throat channels. I was glad we caught this, not only for my own comfort, but for Arielle’s overall health.

So on her eighth day, Arielle had a tongue bris. The ENT physician was so knowledgeable and supportive of breastfeeding. The procedure was hard for me to watch as I held her hands, but immediately after, I was able to nurse Arielle and I noticed a difference. By releasing the frenulum with a small cut, her movement was more breastfeeding-friendly, and we were able to continue on our journey while I simultaneously healed.

It wasn’t smooth sailing though. I continued to encounter bumps in the road. My pump was uncomfortable. Engorgement took over again. A plugged duct killed an entire day that I was sure would also kill me. Two weeks in, and I was miserable. I had threatened to quit breastfeeding approximately 47 times and every time, I chickened out because I didn’t want to quit breastfeeding. I wanted to like it. And I knew I could get to that point eventually only because so many friends had been in my shoes and told me it passes. This was a test of my strength and stamina.

Milk coma selfie: things have changed since college.

I am part of a wonderful Facebook group with local moms who all gave me great advice. Two friends from the group spent hours replying to texts and looking at photos to consult me during those hard times. Late night FaceTime sessions helped talk me off a ledge. Therapeutic phone calls with friends added to my arsenal of information to battle the challenges I experienced (thanks, Gretch, for the APNO recipe!). I began going to a breastfeeding support group on Wednesdays and it has since become my favorite day of the week.

The weeks went by and the pain began to dwindle. What was once pain throughout an entire nursing session became pain only during the first few minutes. Then those minutes turned into only one. That one became a half. And now, when Arielle latches, I don’t feel pain. I feel pride.

The nurses said it would take about two to three weeks. Well. No. Biggest lie of my life. Six weeks in, I stopped having anxiety before each feeding. And now, we’re at eight weeks, and the only reason why I find myself sighing before she eats is because the dog needs to go outside, Madelyn needs help putting on her socks, errands still have to be completed, I haven’t showered yet, and it’s 5 o’clock and I need to start preparing dinner. I didn’t need a breastfeeding miracle. I need a clone.

We’ve even figured out how to successfully nurse when we are out of the house. At first I was so nervous to leave home because I wasn’t sure how I would perform the breastfeeding choreography without the comfort of my special chair and positioning. But now, I can nurse while waiting for a table at a restaurant, off to the side at Target, and even standing up while microwaving Madelyn’s dinner. I don’t profess to know everything, but I know what works for me. So far. At this point. I know things will change as she grows and develops, but I now feel equipped to roll with it.

Before we could be seated to eat the restaurant, Arielle dined at the breastaurant.

My mom breastfed me during a time when a lot of moms felt that formula was the magical milk that was just as good as breast milk. Maybe it was. It was the 80s after all. But what interested me in breastfeeding and inspired me to try it and work through my obstacles was the experience itself that she shared with me. She told me about the amazing bond she felt, and the closeness of our relationship. She shared with me that it felt good, and how sweet it was. While she didn’t breastfeed me for an extended amount of time due to being a working mom (again, it was the 80s after all), she still felt the depth and benefits of nursing. Needless to say, I was intrigued, and wanted to understand first hand these memories my mom had of nursing me. So every time i swore I was going to quit between gasping, snorting sobs, she encouraged me to keep going and power through.

So many friends who support breastfeeding told me it was OK to quit. That my happiness mattered most and Arielle would be fine. Of course she would. Madelyn is a shining star. My stubbornness was selfish. I didn’t want to quit for me. I knew my baby would get fed regardless; but if I quit, I would never have this experience again. It was now or never. I wanted to reap the benefits of breastfeeding for myself and make the choice to quit for whatever reason after we were established, not during a low moment. I didn’t want to regret it later on because I knew the pain of regret would be greater than the pain at the breast.

But my true rock? My greatest support? My husband. He doesn’t have boobs and he was raised on formula. He’s not a hippie and he hated seeing me in pain. He usually chooses the path of least resistance, but is just as stubborn as I am. He was there for me with a glass of water and a flexi straw every time I was due to nurse. He helped me plan a blueprint of a schedule to get us through a good day. He could have told me to just forget it; that my constant crying was stressful and annoying; that it would just be soooooo much easier to shake up a scoop of powder and water. He was sympathetic and gentle, exactly what I needed to keep going. He continues to be there for every middle-of-the-night feeding, not even because I need help with breastfeeding specifically, but because we are a team and he wants the best for me and the best for our daughter. So while I prepare to nurse Arielle, he changes her diaper and brings her to me. It’s a relay and we work well together. I am so, so thankful to have a supportive partner like him because even though he can’t possibly understand what I’ve gone through, he knew how important it was to me. He wanted me to succeed, so he did everything to empower me. True love.

My personal opinion is that everyone, if they can, should try to breastfeed. I’ve never felt more female or important. I feel much more bonded with Arielle than I did with Madelyn at this stage of newbornhood. My mental state is completely normal and I feel extremely clearheaded and recovered from surgery and post partum symptoms. My weight loss kicked into gear much sooner than it did last time, and I not only feel connected with Arielle’s body, but with my own, too. I am constantly in awe of the fact that I have the ability and honor of feeding my baby and how miraculous my body is for making it possible.

Breastfeeding is not easy. The fact that it’s the most natural thing a woman’s body can do does not mean that it’s the easiest thing. I don’t know very many women who say it’s not painful in the beginning, or messy, or stressful. It was all those things for me. Between inconvenient leaking that left a trail like I was Hansel AND Gretel to predicting feeding times with opportunities to sleep, I found beginning breastfeeding to be extremely challenging. I did it anyway. Anyone who knows me knows that I usually quit things that are difficult and too much trouble. Except this time.

A woman’s anatomy is truly amazing, and I have nothing but pride to do what it’s been made to do along with all other mammals. Our society has made breasts to be acceptable as only sexual accessories, but nobody is grossed out about the mama dog feeding her puppies or the new baby giraffe nuzzling with its mom for milk. I joke that I’m Arielle’s pantry. The kitchen is always open and I will continue to feed my baby until one or both of us is done. I’ve come so far and have never felt more proud. With the ongoing support of my friends, my mom, and Bryan, I know Arielle will continue to get the best. I love that she and I have a unique relationship that nobody else in her life can duplicate and I have the ability to take her from frantic to calm with cuddling and milk.

On the left: Before Milk. On the right: After Milk

When new moms come to the Wednesday breastfeeding support group filled with anxiety and tears — the usual signs of having a one or two-weeker — I empathetically tell them it will all be OK and it gets better. It wasn’t long ago that I was hearing the same thing, and I am now honored to take my place in the sisterhood and support others from the other side of the fence.

Already this poor kid is getting the infamous second child shaft. Twenty weeks in, and she’s only had her own blog post once. Oh yeah, it’s a “she.” See? SO MUCH INFORMATION I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ABOUT. I think by 20 weeks, I had already blogged about Madelyn’s every cell, so this is an extreme departure in this chapter of motherhood.

So first thing’s first. As mentioned, it’s a girl! And a very healthy and perfect one at that, and Madelyn is so darn excited to have a little sister. We found out at our 12-week ultrasound. The tech was pretty sure it was a girl, but hesitated to tell us because she didn’t want me to go nuts (what would ever give her that impression?). We confirmed at an indulgent ultrasound studio that it was indeed 99% girl, and the tech there said the only reason she couldn’t tell us 100% is because they’re not allowed to. Holy vagina!

The pregnancy started off stressful due to my beloved Dr. Fiiiiine confirming with me that she was going to cease the obstetrics portion of her practice in exchange for a more stable and consistent lifestyle with normal hours. Can’t say I blame her, but I was more than heartbroken. She had been there for me during the most amazing — and most scary — parts of my experiences with Madelyn, and I was sad that she would not deliver our second child. I also wasn’t thrilled about having to find a new OB, but she referred me to another local doctor who I’ve now seen twice. Dr. Replacement is very nice and knowledgeable, and so far I think I made a good decision by choosing to see him. I’ve heard that he’s an excellent surgeon and at this point, that’s what I care about most. As a second-time mom, I am not as concerned or worried about every minute symptom of the pregnancy and I don’t have to question about his practices during a natural delivery since I am having a repeat c-section. I’m confident he will do a nice job and will take the necessary precautions to make sure I don’t go through what I went through after Madelyn’s c-section.

I started this pregnancy seeing Dr. Fiiiine’s dad who she practices with (and who delivered me in 1983) because Dr. Fiiiine was out of town. Then I saw Dr. Fiiiine twice more before we decided we had to break up and see other people (me, other doctors; her, other women who were not bearing children). Before I found Dr. Replacement, I also did a test run with another popular OB in the area and wasn’t thrilled with him. I also sprinkled in a routine appointment with the perinatologist for a first trimester screen. So, lots of various doctors, and not a lot of consistency — thank goodness this wasn’t my first baby or I’d be a wreck! I’ll see Dr. Replacement next week at 21 weeks and only for the third time. His checks seem to be less detailed and exciting from what I remember at Dr. Fiiiine’s and of course I miss her office staff terribly, but I think once we hit the homestretch and it’s showtime, he’ll really deliver the goods. Literally and figuratively. And then, when I’m all done and it’s time for annual visits, I plan to go back to Dr. Fiiiine because there’s no love like your first love.

(Side note: I had to call Dr. Fiiiine’s office to transfer some records. We spoke on the phone and as we were hanging up, I blurted out, “I MISS YOU” and then there was a really awkward silence. I am THAT girl). (This could be me).

Other than the excitement of adding another girl to our house and the shuffle of doctors to deliver this girl, this pregnancy has been pretty low key. Like last time, I’ve felt really normal and pretty healthy. I was never too sick and the only thing that’s bothered me has been some pretty debilitating headaches, but I also appreciate how easy I’ve had it compared to some other moms.

Part of that ease has been Madelyn. The times when I am down for the count, that little girl impresses me beyond all expectations. She’s such a happy, independent player and can keep herself busy for hours. Whether it’s playing school with her dolls, reading books, coloring and painting, or dressing up in all of her princess costumes, I have felt better knowing I can take time for myself while she stays happy and healthy.

Out and about with my big girl who asked to take a selfie of us. Oy.

Of course we love our play time and snuggle time, and we enjoy many trips and errands out during the day, but I am so thankful for the times I need to be selfish.

I don’t know if it’s the hormones or if it’s the normal response, but I often find myself tearing up when she talks to “her” baby, hugs my belly, tickles it, and cuddles with her sister. Just this morning, during a cuddle sesh with my belly button that may as well poke an eye out, she said, “Oh, Baby! I just love you! I can’t wait to teach you!” Yeah. There was a puddle and it wasn’t my water breaking early, that’s for sure.

I’m going to make sure I update more so that this little ones doesn’t come read this blog one day and hate me for neglecting to document her time in my belly. It’s gone fast and I know it’ll go faster now that we’re a little more than halfway done cooking. March 4th is the big day, and march forth we will!

I’ve slacked a little bit with blogging, so I’ll share some favorite photos from the last few weeks that have been living in my iPhone just dying to get out. They are either part of a bigger, more detailed post that is TBW (To Be Written) or they’re randoms that don’t really have a home, but are too cute to dump. So, this little nook of the Internet is where they shall live.

If there’s one thing I don’t understand, it’s how Madelyn can eat slimy, drippy foods and not have the instinct to want to wipe it away. It kills me! As she eats her yogurt, I want to take a napkin and go to town on her face. Doesn’t she feel that? Doesn’t it bug her? Kids are so weird.

Madelyn got her license!!

Just kidding. I had to put her down real quick while I moved some things in my car, so I stuck her in the driver’s seat. She really liked that. I did not have her chauffer me anywhere, but she did enjoy playing with the steering wheel.

We went to Denver (more on that later) and spent a day at a ski resort. It was Madelyn’s first time in the snow and was very confused by the whole thing. She was so good at walking through the snow in her new boots even though she was packed tight in her winter clothes. Since she didn’t totally hate it, I’m thinking ski lessons are a few years away.

I love this picture of Madelyn and her Grandpa “playing” chess. She likes to go to the chess table in Grandma and Grandpa’s house and rearrange all the pieces. I am never able to clean up after her because I don’t understand chess. I am really good, however, at checkers! Not the same thing?? Anyway, I love how they are both wearing their hoodies and jeans and playing so seriously. That’s what grandpas are for!

Madelyn spent a couple hours in the ER last month when she woke up at 4 a.m. with a 105 fever! Turns out she was suffering from a pretty bad double ear infection. She may have been running a super high fever, but she still took care of her baby at 4 a.m. just like I was taking care of mine. No sickness gets between a baby and her baby!

Madelyn was a flower girl again! Kevin and Lisa just got married on a beautiful, sunny day in April and Madelyn, decked out in a yellow dress, did such a good job walking down the aisle! I was so nervous that she wouldn’t cooperate, but she swung her yellow pomander aka “purse” over her arm and sauntered down the aisle and when she saw us at the end with the rest of the bridal party, she squealed with delight and ran toward us! The crowd loved it and it was a sweet way to start Kevin and Lisa’s lovely ceremony! Anyone need a flower girl? We can rent her out. She’s quiet a pro now.
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A year-and-a-half! Madelyn is 18 months old and my mind is officially blown. I remember 18 months sounded like an eternity away when she was just born. I received some clothes for her that were size 18-24 months and for so long, they lived in the top and back part of the closet, almost unreachable. It seemed like it would be an eternity until she’d get to wear them, and now, here we are, with those same pieces rotating through the laundry. It’s so Alison of me to mark time based on clothing.

Taking Madelyn’s growing photos is becoming more work. Girlfriend doesn’t want to stay seated in her pink chair. She just wants to go! go! go!

At 18 months, Madelyn…

• Is signing to bridge her communication with us. She’s still behind in speaking which is why we visit speech therapy once a week. The therapy is actually like one big play time and it’s really fun! We look at animals and make sounds, play in a ball pit, create noises while we do sensory activities, and learn sign language! Madelyn is the Mistress of More — she loves to put her hands together and ask for “more” or tell us she’s “all done.” Her “all done” sign looks like she’s flipping gang signs. Ah, our little gangster. So sweet. At first I doubted the significance of sign language. Why talk with our hands when we’re supposed to talk with our voices? But then I learned that the sign language is supposed to bridge the gap of communication and ease up any frustration we all have when Madelyn can’t tell us what she wants. Eventually, she’ll put words with the signs and she’ll be chatting away. We’ve been going for about two months and the therapist has seen lots of improvement already! Just this week, Madelyn said “go,” “Poppa,” “boo!” “baa-aa” like a sheep, and “moo” like a cow, in addition to some other animal sounds she has learned like “dah!” for duck/quack, “ccchhhh” for a pig (instead of snorting in, she snorts out like she’s speaking Hebrew), and “grrr” for lion.
• Understands way too much! Just because the girl isn’t talking doesn’t mean she isn’t understanding. I could be in a conversation with an adult that has nothing to do with her, but if I say the sentence, “… so I decided I could do some more shopping…” Madelyn will sign “more” because she hears it. A few weeks ago, I told Bryan something outrageous while she was in the room minding what I thought was her own business and I said, “Seriously, Bryan! I’m not even lyin’!” and out of nowhere she roared. Lyin’ = lion to Madelyn’s ears. If I give her commands, she takes them, which will be awesome once she is strong enough to run the vacuum. Hmm…
• Has discovered Minnie and Mickey Mouse! She’s still very loyal to her Sesame Street friends, but she now recognizes and gushes over Minnie especially. We took her to Disneyland the week she turned 18 months (more on that later!) and she was completely star struck. She has two Minnie dolls that she loves to carry around with her, and whenever I wear my Mickey PJ top, she doesn’t let go of me (it’s a sneaky way to get cuddles out of her!).
• Finally suffered through her first illness of a fever, respiratory thing, and an ear infection. We got through a week’s worth of icky, but she proved to be a total champ through the whole ordeal. She’s much braver than I am!
• Still loves books and reading to herself and her stuffed animals. She also enjoys sorting her toys and making piles out of everything. She walks to an area, moves what’s there, one piece at a time, to a whole new area, and then starts the process over. There’s a method to her madness, I just wish I understood what it was!
• Has excellent dance skills. She keeps rhythm by clapping or bouncing and has a few different signature moves. One is sort of Frankenstein-like where she takes big steps side to side and holds her arms straight out like she’s balancing. Another Madelyn classic is standing in place and bouncing at her knees while flapping her arms at the elbow like a bird. She dances to a capella singing, live music, Sesame Street songs, anything with a melody! Bryan and I think she has some musical talents budding deep down. Can’t wait to see them develop!
• Wears her hair in a few different hairstyles. She finally has enough for pig tails and that style is my personal favorite! She also pulls off a mean Pebbles Flintstone with a pom on top of her head. Her curls are coming in so with enough detangler and a good air dry, the back of her head usually has some good fluff. She won’t allow bows or headbands to stay in her hair very long, but we manage with itty bitty elastics. I should probably learn how to do other fun hair styles. This girl never learned how to French braid! Gasp!

And what’s a Madelyn photo shoot without a little Princeton? More proof that Madelyn’s arrival 18 months ago didn’t take away from our fur baby!

Oh you know, just drinking and reading to my baby like a big girl.