Night Moves

My girl has moves.

She does the "Frankie 2 Step" which is kind of a side-to-side move that she will perform to almost any song that comes on, and she also has a move I commonly refer to as the "Fray J Squat." That one is pretty self explanatory.

Until last night I assumed those moves would reign supreme in her dance move arsenol. Until last night I figured she was set until, inevitably, many years from now when she brings said moves to a gay bar dance floor (they play the best dance music) and Nelly Ripa bitch slaps her with a rainbow flag and 3 snaps in a circle. Until last night, those were the best moves she had.

Last night Frankie came up with the move of all moves.

We were having dinner at The Otis' house and this time, instead of me hitting Randy's car--Frankie hit the floor. It all happened very quickly. One minute everyone was laughing and having a good time (including Frankie who now sees fit to laugh at everything everyone else laughs at even though she has no idea what she is laughing at) and then she fell. She fell fast. Real fast. She fell faster than our stock portfolio.

It was one of the scariest moments of my life.

Frankie was in a booster seat hooked up to a chair that was about 4 feet tall. She fell far... and then she hit hard and cried hard. She cried for a long time. I keep replaying her little head hitting the tile over and over again. It's like a bad movie that won't end. Usually FJ has very quick recovery but this time she cried and cried and cried. We held her until she would ask for the other and then we would switch. It was heartbreaking. We were helpless. I held it together until she started throwing up, and then I started crying too. My girl was really hurt and really scared. I was scared too. Everyone was.

Cody, my hero, naturally kept his wits about him. He took control and got us to the hospital. It was the longest ride ever. When we got there, Cody dropped us off at the ER entrance and I could barely communicate to the lady at the reception desk why we were there. I was a mess. While we were waiting, it didn't take long before FJ was walking around saying "Hi--eee" like everything was OK... and that's when I knew that everything would be.

Frankie is fine and acting totally and completely like herself. I have a feeling that won't be our last visit to the Emergency Room but I also hope we don't get VIP cards. I don't think she has any recollection of last night but I really have no idea. She babbles all the time now and though she could be complaining about not getting dessert at the Otis' house, she could just as easily be complaining about how poorly we were treated at the hospital. I guess we'll never know and you know what--that's OK. Everything is OK and I'm just fine with that.

Fat Lip Friday

Frankie gave me a fat lip on Friday.

It was really sexy.

She never really apologized but, don't worry, I soothed the pain with a bunch of brownie batter.

Fridays are my day with Frankie. I don't go to work. I work from home if necessary, but for the most part Frankie and I spend the day together. We shop, we run errands, we meet up with friends for lunch, we play. It's always a fun day.

This past Friday we had plans to go to lunch for my cousin Shelly's birthday. Shelly and I are very close so I had been looking forward to it for awhile. My mom, Shelly's mom, and my other cousin, Carol, all went and everyone loves Frankie so I knew it was going to be a fun lunch. Frankie goes out for lunch and dinner quite a bit so I had no doubt she'd be awesome at the restaurant. I was half right.

Frankie was in no mood for a nap that morning, but I wasn't really worried because there are lots of times when she doesn't feel like taking her morning nap and she is totally fine. Not long before we left, we were in my bathroom so I could get dressed but when I placed my hairbrush on the vanity, Frankie decided she wanted it. Since there was no time to play with the brush, I took it away and put it in a drawer --Frankie went cuckoo bananas. I contemplated calling an exorcist while I stood there waiting for her head to spin around. I had no idea why taking the brush away would set her off so much. I wanted no part it though and I sincerely hoped she wasn't looking for me to engage. It's a hair brush. I gave her a look that could only be translated to "you're a total freak" before scooping her up, telling her to "get over it," and putting her in the car for our lunch.

As I loaded Little Ms. Meltdown into the car, I mentally went to a place in my head where I store a list of things I need for Frankie on our trips away from home. I like to refer to this list as "Frankie's Crap." While I went through my list, Frankie was happily jamming to Kenny Chesney in the back seat. It seemed the "Hairbrush Incident of 2008" was forgotten.

We got to lunch and everything seemed fine. Frankie and I were the first to arrive so we were the first to learn that we were awarded the same waiter I had just a few days earlier when I was there with my new friend and pediatrician extraordinaire, Molly. Does this matter? Yes. Why? As I'm sure Molly would agree, he is quite the hottie. While my mom and the rest of the party showed up, Frankie was laughing and having a great time. When our waiter approached the table and she got a good look at him, she forgot about us and quickly moved on to shamelessly hitting on him. She even tried to take his apron off! (Jeez, Frankie...get a room... or join a Sorority).

I don't know if it was because she didn't get her nap, my hair brush, or if it was because our waiter told her she was a little young for him, but all of the sudden she went Sybil on me and started to turn...fast. She didn't want anymore of the food I brought for her or the food at the table; she didn't want the warm bread in the basket or the glass of water I offered her. My mom took her for a outside for walk to get her out of the restaurant, but when they came back FJ had to go back in the high chair and she clearly had reservations about that. This anticipated fun and relaxing lunch was quickly becoming slightly stressful. Frankie was squirming around in her high chair and I thought she was going to fall out of it so I decided it was my turn to take her for a little walk. I picked her up and (SHOCKER) she said "Down." (What else is new?) Ok, fine--I'll let you walk.

She did her "drunken sailer" walk through the restaurant, through the bar area, and through the tables that lead to the outdoor tables. I caught up with her outside only to find her stopped at a table of three men. She smiled at one of the guys and threw out one of her Frankie "Hi-eee's." The guy scooped her up after he asked me if it was OK and she stared at him for approximately 3 seconds before she proceeded to go into their bread basket and take a piece of their bread! She didn't want our bread. She must only like bread surrounded by testosterone, I don't know. After she took their bread, she looked at the guy again and exclaimed "Down!"

When we got back to our table, Frankie was not swanky--she was cranky. I put her in my lap to soothe her only to have her head butt me from behind and give me a fat lip. I felt like it was at this point that I throw it the towel. It was time to go home.

I had never had an issue with Frankie at a restaurant before. She was always so well behaved and so much fun and quite honestly, it sort of upset me that she was yucky. I took it personally. She's entitled to an off day, I know, but that didn't make me feel any better since I had really been looking forward to that lunch. I left there feeling exhausted, defeated and humbled by the whole experience.

When we got to the car and I got in the driver's seat, I tried to tell Frankie that it's not nice to give Mommy a fat lip and go bonkers in a restaurant. When I turned to see her reaction, I found her fast asleep (or maybe she was faking it so I would shut up). I'll never know. All I know is that the brownies I brought to The Wallers' house that night sucked probably due to the fact that I ate half the batter before they made it to the oven. It wasn't my fault...I needed to soothe my swelling fat lip and my temporarily bruised ego. Brownie batter is really good for that.

When It Rains, It Pours

Today is Saturday, September 20th and it's Mommy and Daddy's Anniversary. I got up at 5:18 in the morning so now I'm napping and giving them a little time to do their thing. Some parents think their kids are really advanced but compared to me they're not because I can type while napping. Beat that.

Want to know what's going on in my life? I'll tell you. Things are in a bit of disarray at our house right now and I don't like it one bit. I'm none too thrilled with my current living conditions and accomodations, but I know my Daddy and all the workmen are working as fast as possible to get things back to normal for me and Mommy.

Last Friday we went to the suburbs of Chicago with some of our favorite family friends and their kids for a very special weekend. It took all of the families 7 hours to get there. Chicago traffic is stupid. At least we got to stop at Cracker Barrel for lunch. That is one of Mommy's favorite restaurants. She likes it because there is candy and shopping. Daddy says she's "all class." It was my first time there. On our way out, I walked up to a table and hit on a 65-year-old man. He loved me. Before we left, Mommy made Daddy take pictures of us outside the restaurant because she loves it there so much. She is nuts.

When we got to Chicago the traffic was really bad; all the adults were texting each other and everyone was really bummed out. Mommy had to pee so badly that she contemplated using one of my diapers. Daddy said it wouldn't hold all of her pee so she decided to pee in a cup but when a bus pulled up next to us, Daddy told her that they could see in our car so she got stage fright. Mommy decided she needed was better song to "pee to" so Daddy put in a Stones CD and changed the words from "Start Me Up" to "Pee in a Cup." Daddy thought it was funny. I did too. Mommy didn't. She said Daddy was a dummy. I will probably call your kid that one day. Don't get mad at me. It's not my fault. It's my parents and my environment. I'm a sponge.

Our reason for going to Chicago was for a Bat Mitzvah. What's a Bat Mitzvah? I have no idea but there was free food, dancing and everyone thought I was super cute. I even got to go to services. Mommy said I probably wouldn't like services (I guess she doesn't) but I was totally into it. I was dancing in the aisles by myself and no one cared. They loved me. Jews are nice. Mommy and her friend Elise took me and Jessie out of services few times. Mommy thought I was getting something called "schpilkas." I am not positive, but I think that means "ants in your pants" in some language called Yiddish. (Don't get in my diaper if I'm wrong. I am still trying to learn English. When I got here, no one said anything about me having to learn Yiddish too). When the Torah came around, my Papa and Grammy took me to kiss it. I did. I rock at being a Jew.

I had to sleep in a Pack 'n Play at the hotel. Lame. We had a suite but I made a HUGE ruckus when Daddy tried to put me in the Pack 'n Play and leave me in the room by myself. I wasn't into that at all. I did the "I'm really scared" cry and he caved really fast. Mommy was in the lobby with her friends but I know she would have caved too. First of all, we were in a hotel. Second of all, she doesn't like when I cry like that either. It is the one cry I have that makes her sad...and that makes her stressed...and that makes her eat. They resolved to let me sleep in their room for the 2 nights we were there. I got to fall asleep with them in their bed and after they were sure I was really asleep, Daddy would--very gingerly-- lift me up and put me in the Pack 'n Play. One night I moved and made some noise during the transport just to mess with them, but I stayed asleep.

We left for home on Sunday morning and all I knew was that we were going to meet up with the Otis family at Cracker Barrel. Mommy was excited. We had no idea that the trip home was going to take 7 hours again, but this time it was because of rain. HEAVY RAIN. It was rain that didn't stop all weekend in Chicago and apparently, it was doing the same in Michigan. It took us forever to get home. It sucked real bad, but I was a trooper. My parents told me so.

When we got home, beat up and broken down, Mommy went to get Floyd Coden and Daddy found that our house had flooded. The new side of the house. The side of the house with my bedroom, my playroom and my bathroom. My room got it the worst. Daddy was stuck extracting water for most of the night. It was not fun for him. Mommy says that we should be thankful that he is handy and not one of those "nebbishy" Jewish guys who can't do anything around the house, but once again I have no idea what she's talking about because I don't know what "nebbishy" means. One language at a time, lady.

It seems that the private school not far from us has a major problem with their drainage and since the water had no place to go, it decided to come and ruin our house. Mommy has been devastated all week. Daddy has been back and forth from work to home to meet the insurance guys, the work guys, and the guys from the City of Beverly Hills. Mommy says it would be like a porno movie with all these workmen, but so far everyone has kept their clothes on.

Since I'm not allowed to sleep in my room, and all of my furniture has been moved out, I've been sleeping in Mommy and Daddy's room--back in a Pack 'n Play next to Floyd Coden's bed. I think Mommy and Daddy might be bummin' out a little bit that I'm sleeping in there. Yes, I think I have more teeth coming in so I have been waking up 20 times a night coughing or crying in my sleep, but I usually fall right back asleep in 2 seconds. Is it my fault that they can't get back to sleep? Yes, I have been getting up at 5:30 in the morning (I'm not really sure why) but it's probably because the Pack 'n Play mattress blows and someone forgot my Sealy Posturpedic. Yes, I'm sorry that Mommy and Daddy aren't able to read, watch TV or have sexytime with me around but HELLO? Do you think it's a picnic for me being displaced? I didn't come all the way here from China to be stuck in a freakin' Pack 'n Play for over a week!

Oh, well. It's just temporary, right? Thankfully, there's lots of people working to get my life back together though I do feel bad for Daddy--he hasn't been able to relax for one minute since he got home from camp.

I'm going back to my nap. I need my sleep because tonight Grampa is coming to hang out with me while Mommy and Daddy go stuff their faces with Angela and Andy for their Anniversary. When they get home, I have a little present for them. I'm going to wake up at 4:00 in the morning with a horrible, relentless cough and I'm going to do this while I'm still sleeping as they (Clueless 1 and 2) discuss what to do to with me.

"She's sleeping...what do we do?" "She needs water." "Don't wake her." "Should we wake her?" "She's up anyway, she's freaking coughing like crazy." "She's sleeping though." "If we wake her, she won't go back to sleep." "She's coughing anyway--who's sleeping?"

Finally, after 40 minutes no one wants to relive, I will promptly stand up in the Pack 'n Play at 4:40 in the morning and I will cry. They will wallow in their defeat for a minute and then they will get me out and start scrambling. When I don't take the water Mommy is pushing my way, she will give me watermelon and she will reason that it "has water in it." Daddy, at this time, will confer with the Your Child's Health book that Dr. Molly gave us so they don't have to wake her ass up. They will go to page 589, read it, and Daddy will run a hot shower for 10 minutes and take me in there hoping that the warm moisture will relax my vocal cords. It doesn't really work. They're in for a long night, a lot of worrying, and some good looking dark circles tomorrow.

Happy Anniversary...Dummies.

Mommy's not sure...

Do I need a haircut?

That's All Folks!

Camp is over.

Last Dance. Park's closed. Elvis has left the building!

No more traveling back and forth for us and...Daddy's home!!

Here are some of the fun things he came home to:

A new (earlier) wake-up time prompted by a baby monitor and hosted by the babbling no-one-has-any-idea-what-she's-talking-about-sometimes-it-sounds-like-French-but-it's definitely-not-Chinese kid on the other side of the house.

Toilet paper that is off the holders (Frankie likes to pull and pull and pull on toilet paper so I had to remove some them from "Frankie range" and instead place them on top of the toilets). Not my best decorating move --but it's better than the toilet paper floor plan Frankie came up with.

An A/C issue that may force us to have our kitchen ceiling ripped out. Always good.

The sweet scent of dirty diapers seeping from the garbage can and filling the open air of the garage.

Leftover Chinese food that had not been thrown out despite confirmation from wifey that it was.

A dead tree.

Missing rubber door stoppers.

Conversations that start with "Have you seen my..." "Do you know what I did with..." and "Where did I put my..."

Shoes in the kitchen (not mine or his).

A very excited daughter.

Cody came home when Frankie was napping so she had no idea he was in the house. When she got up, I did the usual blah blah blah, "Hi, Frankie--did you have a nice nap?" ...diaper change, etc. and then I put her down on the floor in her bedroom. She was not facing me because she was far too busy pulling all of the books from her nightstand shelf. I very badly wanted to put them all back (I am who I am--I can't help it) but I have accepted that to be an exercise in futility until Frankie moves on to another activity. I chose to ignore the collasal book buildup and focused instead on posing questions like: "Can you say MOMMY? Can you say FLOYD? Can you say DOWN WITH UofM?''...and then I heard Cody walk in. Fray J was still pulling books and taking gibberish so I threw out: "Can you say DADDY...?" I got stuck on DADDY until she was sick of saying it and finally she turned around and saw him. There was Daddy-- right there--in her bedroom! She was very excited; it was a very cute homecoming.

It's really nice to have Cody home. I love being at camp (and I know Frankie and Floyd do too) but I honestly don't think I had another road trip in me. Now, we are all in one place--full time--and I feel a lot less rushed and a lot more settled. I'm going to take a little break from Frankie's blog and hang with my family. I'm sure I'll be back at some point with more Frankie stories and I hope you'll all still be interested. Thank you for your fun and supportive comments and for checking in on us.

I don't mind admitting that I was a little nervous about doing much of my first summer as a Mom on my own--but knowing you guys were out there, and reading your comments (they go right to my email) helped me so much. Writing about our experiences was a healthy outlet for me and it kept me from shopping online while Frankie was sleeping.

I think the stores missed me though so it's time to give them some attention. Frankie needs some cute stuff for the Fall...and who am I kidding?

So do I.

That's not for Frankie!

"That's not for Frankie" is all the rage in our house right now. It's the new black.

Frankie is obsessed with the white, rubber things that are on the end of the door stoppers. She loves to take them off and put them in her mouth (yummy!). Sometimes, if I am in close proximity, she will offer it to me like it's a very special present. It isn't and I don't want it. I want it where it was--on the end of door stopper.

I realized "Frankie, NO" wasn't doing the trick after hearing myself say it ad nauseum in every room in the house with a door or closet, so I enlisted the help of my friend, Sharon, one of my favorite moms, who gave me a hopeful alternative. She told me to say "That's not for Frankie" in a voice that sounds like "Oops, I know you didn't mean to do that, sweetie!" whenever she gets into something she shouldn't. (That is pretty much everything, all the time). From there I am supposed to direct her towards something else to play with. When there is a viable option in the vicinity, it actually works. Fickle Frankie forgets all about trying to pry off the inexplicably attractive rubber door stopper and instead finds instant happiness with her new (and improved) activity. Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of rockin' fun options available at the back of the door so most of the time I am left with taking the rubber thing away and saying (in a voice dripping with saccarine) "That's not for Frankie."

Admittedly, after the 25th time, the inflection in my voice does tend to go from the sweet "Oopsie, I know that's not what you meant to do, honey" voice to a tone more representative of "What is your deal??? You have a million fun things to play with--what is your bizarro fascination with the rubber thing at the end of the door? Ugh...enough!"

I'm sure if I took a moment to reflect, I would consider myself lucky that her only current obsession is with rubber door stoppers. Once she can reach the lint filter on the dryer...she'll probably never want to leave the house.

Letting Go

All Frankie wants to do is walk.

I'm living with Forest Gump--if he walked instead of ran.

I love that she is walking because of the huge smile she so proudly wears on her face. I also love the look of determination in her eyes as she, in perfect Godzilla-form, stomps and crushes everything and anything in her way (including the new sunglasses that were out of the bag for exactly 13 seconds).

I also hate that she is walking because that's ALL she wants to do. It seems everytime I pick her up to smush her with kisses, she says "down." I don't even remember teaching her that word! I don't think I did. Do kids learn it by osmosis when they learn to walk? "Down." All the time--"Down." Well, I'm not so "down" with "down." I still want to hold her a little bit! Walking has trumped Mommy and Mommy don't like it.

A few days ago, early in the morning, I took Floyd Coden for a walk off camp grounds while Cody was in the cabin with Frankie. Floyd was with me, right next to me or very close to me, until he wasn't. I remember looking over to my left and he was gone. I didn't really panic because he knows his way around the area, but I was getting a little annoyed as I yelled, whistled and clapped for him, all the while envisioning myself waking several sleepy people due to the early hour. I weaved in and out of the front lawns lining the dirt road--planning all of the things I was going to say to him when we finally reunited--when lo and behold, a very vuluptuous female Golden Retriever came sauntering towards me with a very embarrassed Floyd Coden trailing slightly behind. Um Hmm. Floyd Coden may have been hanging his head in shame, but the truth of the matter was that he found himself a little early morning hootchie mama lovin'.

I was so ready to bust him out for blatantly ignorning my calls, but as I looked at his cute Floyd Coden face, with his golden girl right next to him, I just couldn't do it. Cady, with the red heart dog tag, was a cutie and I could tell she was into Floyd as she unabashadly sniffed his butt right in front of me. I just didn't have the heart to embarrass him so I let it go and instead settled for telling him-- out of the side of my mouth--that we would discuss his obvious defiance later. (And we did).

While we walked back to camp, I couldn't help but hope for a minute that walking doesn't lead Frankie and Floyd away from me... but I know at times it will. It will and it should. I just hope they know that they can come always come back.

Stream of Consciousness...

Don't forget to bring a spoon and a bib to dinner with Debbie tonight--you always forget one or the other...load the travel diaper holder thingie with more dipes because FJ used the last one after the appetizing dump she took during last night's dinner with The Clarks...don't forget to bring Cody his mail to camp this weekend...also the gifts for his bday and there is still one in the car under the front seat...get bananas on way home from dinner if it's not too late...don't forget the fleece bag sample that you need for your appt tomorrow...fire off a check to Randy for smashing into his car in his driveway, maybe think about going back to driving school as well...make Pediatrician appt for next round of rockin' vaccinations...go see if there is any more leftover Chinese food left in the fridge in the garage considering you already told Cody you threw it all out...don't forget IPOD/charger, phone/charger, camera/charger and laptop tomorrow before camp...put magazines and book in tote bag now so you don't get to camp all mad that you left without them...go to the bathroom...get bananas...renew InStyle magazine subscription...email Dad a list of FJ's routine for tomorrow--ask him if he has any bananas...fold clothes in dryer and wash towels next...do sheets tomorrow morning so they are clean when you get home from camp...go get 1, 2 or 3 pieces of SEE's chocolate in the box you keep walking past...pack up car after FJ goes to sleep...bath for FJ? no bath for FJ?--she took one last night...add "lip liner sharpener" to your list of things to buy, where in the world did the other one go?... clean up playroom--I don't know why I bother, oh, yes I do--I can't help it, I'm obsessive, I'm Monica from "Friends"...put FJ's shoes away, there are 5 pairs in the kitchen, shoes should NOT be in the kitchen, seriously, why are her freakin' shoes always in the kitchen?... wash bottles...make eyebrow appt, it's been so long you might need Floyd's groomer...Tivo 90210, it starts on Sept 2, and don't let anyone make fun of your for being excited about it...fill Floyd's water bowl and I think he needs more treats in his jar, where are they? In the closet...still need to go to the bathroom...

Learning to Walk

I had "one of those weeks" this week.
In the midst of it, Miss Swanky Frankie decided that she was determined to walk.

On Wednesday morning, before daycare, Frankie took a few steps while we were playing. I told her that Daddy was coming on home on Friday for the weekend and to hang tight. I pretended like nothing happened. I actually dissuaded my kid from walking. Who does that? Mother-of-the-year, I am.

That evening, Frankie and I went to our friends, The Otis', house for a very nice dinner. We played, FJ took another few steps, I ignored it, we ate, we laughed, it was fun. After I surveyed Frankie's usual mess of "things she wasn't in the mood for" all over their kitchen floor, we conveniently decided we needed to leave in order to get home for our nightly routine. There we were... in the car...ready to go...backing down the driveway, when I--in a matter of seconds--ran into the Otis' sweet, luxury car promptly changing it from a "whooptie" to a "hooptie." I felt horrible. Horrible. And it didn't help matters that I had to listen to Frankie relentlessly repeating "Uh-Oh" the whole ride home. Zip it, Rainman--Mama just pimped a ride.

On Thursday, I sat in a deposition for most of the day. That actually would have been fine if I WAS A LAWYER. I'm being sued by the woman who bought my old house. She's suing me for fraud. She believes that I lied about problems with the crawl space of my old house. I didn't. I never even went into the crawl space. Do I seem like the girl who would go into a crawl space? No thanks. I was exhausted when I got home and all I wanted to do was crunch my kid. When she got her up from her nap, I was so excited to see her and she burped in my face. Awesome.

Friday: Big day. Ohhhh, big day. Cody's coming home for the weekend, Beanie and Nicole (Frankie's best friend/camp nanny) are coming to stay with us, and it's vaccination day--one of the holiest of days. On top of that, FJ is really dying to walk and I still won't let her go full-blown until Daddy comes home. I explained to her (again) that I want her to take her first steps with both of us. It worked. Cody came home and Frankie went hands-free. There is nothing cuter than watching her walk. She is just so proud of herself. She looks like an extra from "Night of the Living Dead," all wobbly and unstable with her hands out in front of her: thump, thump, thump... and then she invariably falls after 4-6 steps and gets back up again: thump, thump, thump...

Cody made it home in time for the doctor appointment. As always, the vaccination shot was harder on me than on Frankie. I hate vaccinations but I love, love, love our pediatrician (Dr. O'Shea) and her new office is insane. It has a very contemporary feel and the vibe is warm. Everyone that works there is happy to be there and totally sincere. Each patient room is equipped with a TV and a really comfy leather couch. (How crazy is that? No sterile tables--couches!! Leather couches!) Dr. O'Shea talked to us for awhile while I sank into the comfy couch and Frankie alternated between climbing all over Cody and playing with the toys we brought in from the waiting room. She did, however, manage to say "Hi-eeee" about 50 times in order to ascertain that she does indeed have that word down. The whole experience was surreal. It was so laid back, we could have just as easily been hanging at Dr O'Shea's house. Even her kleenex box matched the decor. Cody and I walked out holding a happy kid and a complimentary Your Child's Health book shaking our heads in total disbelief that a doctor office visit could be so painless. Well, maybe not totally painless for FJ...but her recovery was fast, her band-aid was cute, and after we explained to her that the alternative (Polio) would SUCK, Dr. O'Shea's Mom let her pick out a toy to take home. All was well again. Vaccinations and party favors. Love it.

Yes, it was one of those weeks. It was one of those weeks filled with ups and downs. We've all been there. We've all had them. It's interesting to me that I had this kind of week while Frankie was learning to walk. After her initial descent into Stepsville, USA, I watched my girl fall down and spring back up about 100 times. Determination and resilience surrounded her every single time and it not only was it inspiring, but also a gentle reminder that there may be days when we're down--but it doesn't take long to get back up on our feet, where we belong.

Northern Exposure

Dear Nadia,

It was so much fun when you and Aunt Abbey stayed here with me and Mommy. It felt very empty and sad when we got home from dropping you off at the airport. We had a fun time, didn't we?

Remember when Mommy threw you the little birthday party at the house and they made us wear matching outfits? LAME. They thought it was sooooo cute. How much longer do you think we'll have to do that kind of stuff? They should have to wear matching outfits. We'll see how cute it is then.

Meanwhile, did you know I was supposed to get cake that night and I didn't? You were still sleeping so you might not know this, but when Mommy took me and Floyd for a walk on Friday morning, I snagged a BB Bat sucker and Mommy sort of shrugged it off thinking I would just hang onto it during our walk, (I always hang onto something during our walks) but when we were walking (boring) and she was singing (horribly), I broke through the paper covering and got about half the sucker! (I got some of the paper too). But then she busted me. Oh, she busted me bad. She took it away (and no doubt ate it). She said "You're making me be a mean Mommy but you don't let me brush your teeth so no shot are you getting cake and sucker all in one day. No cake for you, Missy." I swear, she called me Missy. My name is Frankie. Anyway, I thought she'd relent, but she didn't. She is Dr. Ruthless. I probably wouldn't have been able to sleep having sugar so close to bedtime, but I hope you enjoyed it. I'm still not completely over missing out.

Thankfully, I am a trooper and I still managed to have fun during your stay. How about when we took our baths together? Did you have fun? I did. Didn't you find me to be an excellent splasher? I know, I am awesome. I get water everywhere. No one can compare. I didn't want to bring it up when you were here, but did you happen to pass a little gas in the tub? I think I saw some extra bubbles on your side.

I really didn't mind taking a bath with you, but did you hear Aunt Abbey and Mommy laughing in the kitchen about how they are going to do it every single time we are together, no matter how old we are? I even heard your Mom preparing for future hypothetical arguments... "Honey, I know you just got your driver's license, but get in!" They were laughing and laughing. They think they are so funny. Hardee har har.

How about when we went to lunch at Olga's and you were screaming so loud that glasses were breaking and people were looking? That was funny. You hit notes that Mariah Carey has never heard of. Aunt Abbey was kind of mad and when we got to the car, she said: "I will always love you, but I am very upset with you right now" and you blew a fat raspberry at her. It was killer. Good times.

Did we get a chance to discuss "The makeshift-silver-gift-ribbon-child-safety-cabinet-protectors" they came up with to keep us out of the cabinet under the sink? What was that about? Hello--McGyver, is that you? Admittedly, it worked, but Mommy, don't you have a job and some cash-eesh in your account to get the real thing??? I know the economy is bad in Michigan but REALLY? A silver gift ribbon?

What about when you guys first got to the house and Floyd Coden got so excited he barfed all over the kitchen (Welcome to Detroit!), and then he did it again a few days later? Nothing beat when he tore down the door frame of the door leading to the garage because no one was home when the big storm hit and he (as always) flipped out. He even got to the dry wall! Poor Floyd Coden.

Hey, who do you think got Mommy sick, me or you? We were both teething big time and rockin' the Casbah with our runny nose/cough combo so it really could have been either one of us--or both. I know I coughed in Mommy's face a bunch of times, but I noticed you got a few good ones in there as well. I guess we will never know so I will consider it a joint effort. I felt kind of bad for her since I did keep her up for 2 of the nights you guys were here, but whatever--she'll sleep when she's dead.

I'm getting ready to say good-bye and enjoy myself a nice poop in the pants, but I'd like to leave you with one more tidbit from our fun-filled time together: The booger bubble. Aunt Abbey kept wanting me to do "kar-a-tay," but lest we never forget or disrespect the booger bubble. Have you ever seen a more perfect "O" of mucus come from anyone's nose?...I don't think so. Don't worry, I will practice and bring my many talents with me when we come to visit you. I can't wait!

Until then, I miss you very much. I loved playing with you, even though you fell on me like a billion times-- but you made up for it with all the presents you brought me, especially the "Ne-Hao, Ya'll" shirt. That will look hot on me.

Long live Mac and the Cheese!

KIT

BFF

FJC OUT

PS. Are you so sick of that Kid Rock CD? I am too. Give it a rest, Mommies!

Bring it on, Ya'll!

Abbey and I in Charlevoix, MI 1998

My mom used to tell me not to depend on one friend for everything. She said: "It's hard to get everything you need from one friend, each friend wears a different hat." In other words, you may have one friend you love to gossip with, one friend you love to shop with, one friend you can trade secrets with...

I'm very lucky. I actually have one friend I can say or do anything with and tomorrow she's coming here from Dallas with her youngest daughter who is just a few months younger than Frankie! No husbands, just the girls. Oh yeah, baby. JUST.THE.GIRLS.

How excited am I?
Get me a diaper.

Abbey is my best friend. We met at The Ohio State University many years ago and we've been friends ever since. Abbey was actually friends with my roomate when we met. Soon enough, Abbey began "cheating" on my roomate when we decided we liked each other more than we liked her. (Mean, I know). Abbey used to call our apartment and hang up when my roomate answered (real mature), but I'd know it was her and I'd call her right back (Ahh...the days before Caller ID...).

We've been through the good and the bad together, Abbey and I--and there have been lots of both. She's the Gail to my Oprah, the Beavis to my Butthead. I am looking forward to several days of face stuffing, much celebrating, present opening, coffee drinking, magazine reading, diaper changing, movie watching, baby strolling, dog walking, power shopping, bottle giving, errand running, Kid Rock singing, Disney playing, coney dog eating--(her, not me) and the kind of genuine and knowing laughter that makes whatever you're drinking come out of your nose.

Is it tomorrow yet?
Let's get it on, Darlin'!

Accentuating the Positive

This past weekend, my brother, Frankie's Uncle D, decided to leave his busy NY life behind and slow things down at camp for a few days. It was great for me to hang with him and I know FJ enjoyed her time with him as well. He came to Detroit to meet her a few weeks after we got home from China but everything was still a little new and a lot cuckoo so, understandably, he was likely wondering if a) she would remember him (not a chance) and b) if she would be into him (most definitely). In fact, I estimate that it took her approximately 2 minutes to warm up to him before he became her very own personal jungle gym.

Uncle D showed up just in time for the Camp Tanuga "Friday Night Dinner." As usual, Frankie was holding court at her standard "head of the table" position. She gave "high 5's" to kids and counselors alike while happily alternating between stuffing her face and throwing her food. No easy feat, I know, but nothing unusual for Fray J. She is a fun and happy kid and mealtime is no exception. My brother caught on fast and wasted no time calling me out: "She's awesome, Rob. Why do you give her such a bad rap on the blog?" I was totally blindsided.

I do? I give her a bad rap?

I don't mean to!

Well, sometimes I do, I mean let's face it--she's not awesome 100% of the time (who is?), but believe you me, I'd be the first to push her way up on the scale of awesomeness, if there was one. (There should be one).

My Dad used to tell me that when he was a kid, when it came to him, my Grandma would frequently highlight the negative and rarely accentuate the positive. I don't want to be like that. There is far, FAR more positive associated with Frankie J than negative.

She is awesome.

She's really funny, especially when she hears music and no matter what she's doing, she'll start dancing. She's sweet, especially when I ask her for a kiss and she leans her forehead towards me so I can kiss it (that's her version--I don't question it). She's sassy with her new-found whiplash abbreviated head shaking "No-ooo" when I ask her if she wants some water. She's cute with her shy smile and quick shoulder shrug when someone asks her how she is. She's smart when she goes to pry open one of my hands and then the other looking for the rest of her goldfish that I have actually eaten instead of holding for her. She's amazing that she passed Mommy's sleep training course in 3 days and now she can put herself to sleep at home and at camp... and if she doesn't feel like sleeping, she is happy to blow raspberries and babble in some language that has no English translation until someone comes to get her. She's girlie when she crawls around with lip gloss in one hand and mascara in the other. She's hilarious when she pushes her walker toy around furtively channeling Sophia from "The Golden Girls." She's expressive when we say "Frankie...Kar-ah-tay?" and she breaks out a karate move that is so funny, I promise, you will wish wish you were wearing her diaper because you will pee in your pants. She's clueless that she hurts my feelings when she prefers Daddy to me (not that I blame her, he is pretty freakin' cool). She's a trooper with the 3-3-1/2 hour drive we do twice a week and she's a gem that she adjusts to the cabin when we're Up North or to the house when we're downstate the second she walks (crawls) in.

...and those are just the things off the top of my head.

Bad rap? We can't have that...unless, of course, she's listening to it in my car and we all know she would never rat out her Mommy for that. She's too loyal.

Hey, add that one to my list.

The Evolution of "Uh-Oh"

"Uh-Oh" is very big right now.

It started out as "Uh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh," and then slowly progressed to "Uh-Uh-Uh-Oh," and now we've arrived at destination "Uh-Oh." It's quite the popular expression for Frankie Jade-- and who knew there were so many different uses for it?

There is the "Uh-Oh" for when someone else drops something or she sees something fall. There is the "Uh-Oh" for when she is the one doing the dropping or throwing. And let's not forget my personal favorite--the "Uh-Oh" that is said right before she drops or throws something. (I like to think of that one as the preemtive "Uh-Oh.")

In addition to "Uh-Oh," there are a few other biggies currently circulating the Coden household. "Hi-eee" (Hi), "Dank du" (Thank you), "Ba Ba" (Bottle-- that's a new one), "Gu Gu" (Good girl), "Bye Bye" and "Ba" (Ball). Her vocabulary may not be vast, but coupled with expressive--and often humorous--body language, she somehow manages to get her point across.

Unfortunately, in addition to the few words and hand/arm gestures, it seems the "loud and screechy road" has also become one of her preferred ways of communication. In the last few days, the emergence of the "mini tantrum" has decided to rear its ugly head. They are short lived and always followed by a quick recovery, but the frustration Frankie is so obviously experiencing can be hard to watch. I would love to say "use your words" as I have so often seen many Mom's say, but I don't know how far that will get me. Somehow I don't think "Dank du" or "Ba Ba" are the linguistic tools she would reach for in order to convey her message.

So, for the time being, Cody or I (or both) have settled for getting down on the floor with Frankie while we attempt to slowly and soothingly work through the imminent drama together. I keep telling her that saying "MORE" would clear up so much (as opposed to the high pitch scream she seems to be becoming very fond of), but she isn't budging, and who can blame her? Her chosen "loud and screechy road" may be less traveled by those in our household, but it sure is an effective route...at least for now...

Daddy's Girl

I left Frankie at camp on Sunday.

I have never been without her since the day we got her.

Everywhere I go and everything I do, I keep thinking I have forgotten something...

It's very strange.

Every Wednesday we show up at camp like a tornado: Frankie, Floyd and I. We tear up, mess up and stink up Cody's cabin. (Side note: The "stink up" one is all Floyd--I take no responsibility for that. He has perfected the just-out-of-the-lake-wet-dog-smell. It permeates the cabin. It's really lovely).

In any event, we stir it up from Wednesday until Sunday and then we clear out leaving Cody amidst the leftover doggie stench and heavyhearted silence. Of course, there are approximately 200 kids running around camp... but not his kid. I started to feel very bad about leaving Cody alone. Is it fair for me to keep taking his daughter from him every Sunday? Is it fair to take her away from her father? Who's to say that I'm the one who is supposed to be with Frankie all the time?

So...here I am, with Floyd Coden.

We are separated from both Daddy and daughter, and you know what? We are doing just fine. Floyd is enjoying his alone time with me and I'm happy to curl up on the couch with a little Lifetime TV when I'm done at work. (I can't even remember the last time I was on the couch, or in the family room for that matter).

I know Frankie is having a blast at camp (see photos) and she's very well cared for. Cody and Nicole (our faboo camp nanny) know the drill. I'm sure my girl is not looking for me or Floyd--as she is kept very busy and I really don't think she has any concept of time yet--but I also know she will be happy to see us when we get there. I'm very excited for tomorrow when we will likely get her now-famous "Hiieee!" (Translation: "Hi!")

In the meantime, I'm going to hang outside with Frankie's Auntie Michael and catch up on some gossip before heading out for a much anticipated girl's night. These last few days have been nice--I'm doing fine keeping busy or doing nothing, but that surely doesn't mean I don't miss my girl because one thing is for sure:

I do.

Nature vs Nurture

Lunch time at Camp Tanuga is an especially crazy part of the day. The mess hall is packed with hungry campers in need of hydrates and carbohydrates. Announcements are made and cheers are called. Banging, snapping, yelling, clapping, singing, eating, stomping, cheering. It's a cacophony of sound that would normally be deemed anything but appropriate, but at camp it just makes sense.

Frankie loves it.

We bring her in early so she can get a jump start on her meal because when the yelling and stomping starts, she can hardly contain herself. Food and appetite are both forfeited as she chooses instead to bounce up and down in her chair lost in the madness that is lunch time in the mess hall. She loves it.

Yesterday, as we were watching Frankie repeatedly attempt to eject herself from her chair (full smile painted on her face and ours) a close friend made a comment that can only be described as the very essence of why I am such a firm believer in adoption:

"I wonder what Frankie would be like if someone else adopted her."

Ever since my 12th grade World Literature class, I have been intriqued with how genetics and environment shape who we are. Nature vs. Nuture is a common theme in many of the canon classics we are made to read in school. For most, the ageless debate was chucked at the classroom door, but for me--for some inexplicable reason--it followed me out of the classroom and inexorably weaved itself into my life.

It followed me to rescue Barney and Floyd, two neglected Golden Retrievers, with hopes of giving them them a fresh start and a new life. (It worked). It followed me to work with at-risk youth and foster kids to prove to them, and myself, that with a little love, attention and respect, they could be stripped of their defensive armor ultimately exposing inherently good kids struggling to survive in mostly undesirable and, very often, violent living conditions. It also, without a doubt, followed me to Frankie.

How much of who we are is determined by the innate qualities we are born with, and how much is because of personal influence and experiences?

I have never felt a need to be pregnant. (Though you know if I was, I would surely be the girl eating cake at 4:00 a.m.). For me, the need is much more about changing a life instead of making one. Will Frankie have Cody's hair or my eyes? Uh...definitely NO to both, but I care about that stuff not at all. Frankie has unquestionably gotten her hair and eyes from her biological parents, but that happy kid doing the watermelon dance, the sassy shoulder shrug and the mess hall table bang...that is ALL us, baby.

All us.

Frankie loves to stand.

It's her new thing and she is VERY into it.

Usually when she stands, I put both arms up in the air and sing "YAY," but there are plenty of times when I find myself grabbing her and saying "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

You know those chairs that clip onto the side of the table? The ones babies and toddlers sit in while they're eating? Yeah...Frankie likes to stand while she's in it. Of course she is clipped in and the straps should hold her down--but they don't. She pushes her butt back, reaches forward and stands. It's very annoying. We, repeatedly, gently push her back down and tell her "NO," but she flat-out doesn't care. She just tries to stand back up again.

Frankie also tries to stand while I'm changing her diaper. What is that all about? I'll reach down for a dipe or for a wipey thing and the next thing I know, in a flash, she has gone from her back to her stomach while quickly pulling her legs in so she can stand. NO! Are you kidding me? You're on a changing table for *&^%'s sake! GET DOWN.

How about in the bathtub? That's my personal fave. I mean, is there a MORE dangerous place for Frankie to stand? Water, soap, shampoo and suds. Nope, no danger there. Here, let me help you! Unreal. I must have said "NO" about 1000 times tonight during bathtime but she just thinks it's funny. Well, it's not.

I have noticed, as of late, that even she has started shaking her head "NO."

Whatever it is, the answer is "no."

I can't imagine where she picked that up.

Could it be that she sees me doing it to her all the time?

Gee, I wonder why...

Bad Influence

I am a big fan of eminem. BIG.

You like him? Great. You loathe him? Great.

I love him.

I love him in the car and in concert. I love him on DVD and on TV. I love him in books and on posters. I love him in interviews and on magazine covers.

I love him here, I love him there, I love him pretty much anywhere!

The thing is, I really think Frankie J digs him too.

Is that bad?

Being that she is only 15 months old, and has only been exposed to English for about 4 months, I still pop in Eminem CD's when we're in the car together. I figure she still has no idea what he's talking about.

Thus, we jam.

Her legs go up and down like crazy and I swear I have seen her pump her right arm up and down to the beat. (Rapper style).

I'm telling you, my girl is down with Eminem.

What am I supposed to do? The poor kid was deprived of so much the first 11 months of her life, can I deprive her of this?

I don't think I can.

I don't think I will.

At least not yet.

I know there will come a day when I won't be able to pop in his CD's anymore or, at best, I'll have to get the ones with censored lyrics. (Blech!) That day is out there though, it's out there...just looming above me like a thunderstorm threatening a picnic. It makes me sad, yes--but I'm thinking if I don't pull him from my CD player, the alternative could be very bad later on down the line...

Teacher:

Frankie, I'm sorry, but you and your friends are going to have to keep it down.

Frankie:

B*tch, keep talkin'

Keep on poppin' off, flip them jaws because

We ain't stoppin'

We ain't gotta prove $h*t to ya'll

So all ya'll can lick the b#!!$ and keep walkin'!

OY.

That would be bad. Very bad.

I should probably just stop playing him now.

Blech!

Queen of the Crib

Ms. Thang is becoming unbearable to live with.

Soon after we got the letter about her "bandanna photo" being inducted into that "baby coffee table book," her adoption agency asked for permission to put her picture on their new brochure. It has totally gone to her head. She can't walk, but she is climbing Mount Ego. The kid can't say her own name, but she insists that I hire an agent and assistant for her as soon as possible.
Unreal.

Also, a side story and a little tip for those who keep kleenex next to the crib:

Don't.

As usual, we put Frankie down for her mid-day camp siesta around 3:00. When I went to get the princess after she awoke from her slumber, I walked into a room that had been transformed into the "White Party" --but P Diddy wasn't there.

Kleenex was everywhere!

Either before, after or during her naptime, Frankie decided to grant independence to almost each and every one of the sheets in the kleenex box. Be free! It was all over the floor in front of the crib, it was free floating on the side, and much of it was covering the crib sheet. Few soft soldiers were still being held captive by the time I got there--almost everyone had been liberated. Being that it was easy to clean and the kleenex had not been used, it was funny...and she looked so proud of herself rocking back and forth in her crib waving kleenex at me. "Look what I did!" I wanted to be proud of her but it's not like what she is did is hard or anything. I mean, how hard it is? You pull and throw. Big whoop. I certainly wasn't mad, but I also wasn't quite sure if praise was in order. We eventually settled for telling her how cute she was and cleaned everything up.

I figure we got off easy.
It could have been the "Brown Party" starring poop instead of kleenex.

That's one party I hope she never invites me to.

Time To Take A Stand

Frankie stood up this past weekend. Then she fell down. She doesn't always fall down though-- at least not right away. Sometimes she stays up for a few seconds and just looks confused like "what am I doing up here?" and then she inevitably falls down. Either way-- it's official. She is standing and I'm not the only one who has seen it. Walking can't be far behind, but no one on this end is in any big hurry. It will happen when it happens. Somehow I don't picture her crawling around her high school, so I'm fairly confident the walking thing will happen at some point.

Frankie is also standing strong as a self-proclaimed vegetarian. I thought this little phase would have passed by now, but no uh-uh. I still try to sneak the meat, chicken or turkey in, but every time I do she either nonchalantly tosses it and ignores me, or vehemently throws it and shoots me the "Hello? I told you, Madre, no food with a face!" glare--like I'm not respecting her choices or something. Jeez...take it easy--I just want to make sure you're getting enough iron.

Frankie decided to grow out of one of her really cute pairs of shoes on the way to dinner last night. The outfit was a bit lacking as it felt really incomplete without the cute shoes, but thankfully we all survived and managed to have a nice dinner.

Frankie has also deemed yelling to be a form of communication. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" (See second photo) We don't get it, but it's funny so we do engage, harmonize...and sometimes instigate.

Frankie has made it painfully clear that it doesn't really matter what time we leave camp to make the 3 hour trip home. She will stand strong against giving into a nap and instead opt to whine for at least half the trip. It's so awesome.

Lastly, a month or so ago-- just for kicks--I entered one of Frankie's photos in the Great American Photo Contest. I don't know why I did it. I just did it. How about there was a letter in the mail today that Frankie has been selected to be featured in the 2008 edition of America's Most Beautiful Babies! No, I am not kidding--How crazy is that? We always thought she was cute and I guess we were right! In case you're curious as to which photo was selected, it can be found on the 6/13 blog: it's the one with Frankie in the white bandanna.

I would also like to mention that before Frankie went to sleep tonight, she informed me that she will no longer get out of her crib for less than 10,000 a day. She asked me to thank her "Auntie" (must say with Australian accent) Nicole for taking the chosen picture, Eminem for doing the song we used for our Family Camp skit that prompted the outfits, me for forgetting her Detroit cap and defaulting to the white bandanna and--of course, Cody, for being not only her Daddy, but also her hero.

Ode To Sippy Cup

I have never really been a jealous person by nature.

I mean, of course I have had my moments (who hasn't), but generally speaking I have never really wanted what someone else has. I have always been happy with my life and what I have.

Until now.

I see babies using sippy cups and I am jealous.

I am. I'm big enough to admit that.

I am jealous of the moms who made it happen.

Why can't I make it happen?

What am I doing wrong?

Oh, sippy...why won't Frankie love you?

It's my only "thing" with Frankie. Everything else--no problem--it will happen when it happens but I'm all about the sippy cup thing happening now. For some reason, it is both my obsession and nemesis: The Sippy Cup.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...Frankie will do it when she's ready (like everything else). I know, I know.

Doesn't help.

Why isn't she doing it NOW? She's 14 months old. Now isn't good?

It's good for me. Not good for her??

Yes, I've tried all the different brands out there.

Yes, I've tried other things besides water.

Yes, I put cranberry juice in the vodka to dilute it a bit.

I have done it all!

She hates the sippy.

I feel bad for the sippy.

This is what it contends with being around Frankie:

Oh, Sippy Cup
Oh, Sippy Cup

Be gone from my life

You're a royal pain in the butt

Mommy shoves you in my face

I push you away

She just doesn't get it...

I will never cave

I picked you up once

It was a tease

I just wanted to show

That I can do it with ease

I only like milk

And bottles are the only way

Keep comin' at me, sippy--

I will make you pay

I will throw you to the ground

You won't spill, but it will hurt

Sometimes you will hit tile

Somtimes you will hit dirt

I will never give up the bottle

You can fly me to the moon

Don't think I won't take it there

And on my freakin' honeymoon

Oh, yeah--bottles rule

Sippy cups suck

You can keep trying

I don't really give a &%#$

(Nice mouth, Frankie).