Daredevil Kaitlyn

Someone's got a little daredevil in her. It freaks Mommy out a bit. And to be honest, to see some of the things she does, it kind of makes me a little nervous, too.

At first, it was the typical jump on Mommy and Daddy. Then she graduated to jumping on the bed. Then, from the couch to the floor. Then the whole Tumblebus craze hit and she started somersaulting and rolling and even more jumping. Finally, the Little Gym birthday party just pushed it all over the top.

               

There's been no stopping her since. Jumping off the ottoman, leaping from the stairs, hurling herself over the couch.

I'm not saying I was any better.

I still remember playing in my basement growing up, we used to have those old-timey school desks. You know, the all-metal, four-legged, drawer-on-the-inside desks that stood about three feet tall. Well, we didn't play school with those things.

We played "Let's see who can leap from desk to desk the most times." Because nothing says "playtime" like jumping from one lopsided perch to another lopsided perch with nothing but an undeveloped skeletal bone protecting your brain from the cold, hard, barren cement floor.

But, you know, kids bounce. I'm just hoping Kaitlyn learns that trick. Soon.

Making sense

"Perhaps God tires of calling

the aged to His fold,

So He picks a rosebud

before it can grow old ..."

I don't understand a lot of things in this world. The origins of the universe. All 9,833 sections of the Internal Revenue Code. How to calculate a quarterback's Passer Rating.

Most of the things I don't understand, someone can sit me down and teach me. Or at least have some semblance of an explanation. Whether I can understand said explanation is a different story, but the explanation is more than likely reasonable, something the semi-educated person can grasp.

I don't understand the death of a child.

People can stop many things in this world. People can explain many problems. People can heal many illnesses. When a child passes, people cannot do any of those things. Cannot stop grieving. Cannot explain sorrow. Cannot heal broken hearts. Only time can do those things. And in this saddest of circumstances, time is against us.

We want time to pass more quickly: to begin our healing, end our grieving, explain our sorrow. Sadly, it doesn't. Everything moves in slow motion; every second feels like an hour, every hour a day, and so on.

All we can do is sit and wait for time to catch up to us, a race that can't be won.

When an adult dies, there's the expectation that person lived their life -- played their first tee ball game, had their first kiss, went on their first date, owned their first car, had their first job. That person had experiences that can be reflected upon. When a child dies, there are only what-ifs.

We can think about the joy children bring us, the beauty that pours out of them. We can think of all of the happiness they filled the world with in their short time here. We can tell stories and show pictures and laugh and cry and laugh some more.

But then there's the silence. Then, the tears. Lather, rinse, repeat.

You might be able to give me reasons for why a child dies, but you can't ever explain it. It's one of those things in this world I will never fully understand.

"...So when a little child departs,

we who are left behind

Must realize God loves children --

Angels are hard to find."

Childhood Days in Keansburg

Kaitlyn's quite lucky to be here in Greensboro. There are plenty of things to do; from the Children's Museum to the Science Center to the Zoo (well, it's not in Greensboro, but close enough), there's always something for us to do with her.

When she gets older, there will be all of the above, plus Wet N' Wild water park, Greensboro Grasshoppers baseball games, all of those parks and playgrounds that we continue to discover and so on and so forth. There isn't a shortage of activity, to say the least.  

That was the case when we were kids. There was always something happening -- whether it was bowling at the old Strike N' Spare, pitch-and-putt at Green Knoll, the occasional trip to Dave's Auction for some ice cream while stale cigarette smoke filled the air. 

But, for the money, nothing beat Keansburg. Sure, there were places with bigger amusements (Wildwood), more name recognition (Atlantic City), more games of chance (Seaside Height), but there was something about Keansburg. 

I remember driving in the van with the family, meeting Aunt Jo Ann and Grandma in one of the many storefront gambling halls playing video poker and skeeball for tokens that I would inevitably use on baseball cards. We'd stroll across the street to another, maybe the one with the candy wheel and try to win value packs of Reese's Cups or another sugary treat. Walk to the amusement area and wonder why the rides weren't working, not realizing that my family was (for a few years, there) the only one walking the amusement area. 

It's apparently making a bit of a comeback, which is good. I'd like to bring Kaitlyn down to Keansburg one day, when she's old enough to play the games on her own. It was a big part of growing up, so why shouldn't it be a part of Growing Up Kaitlyn? 

I know how your feel, Suri

Believe me, TomKat, I've feel your pain. I know how it feels to walk around the with prettiest little girl on the block. I understand how frustrating it could be that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, wants to take her picture.

Don't they understand that we're just real people too, just with the most adorable children on the planet? I mean, can't they just cut us a little slack?

I mean, it's bad enough my Kaitlyn can't just walk down the street without being photographed by someone in the bushes or the random camera phone. But it's getting a little much with all the Web sites and blogs that are insatiable.

How do you do it TomKat? Do you and Brangelina get together and talk about this stuff? Do Jen and Ben come over and let Violet and Seraphina play with Suri while the four of you commiserate over paparazzi?

Unlike you Hollywood types, I don't have the network you rely on; no agents, no security teams, no PR reps that can spin the media maelstroms. Just me, Michelle and Kaitlyn fighting our way through a sea of flash bulbs, awkward stares and not-so-silent whispers.

Is that them? Should we ask for an autograph? A photo? A lock of hair?

The answers are yes, sure, maybe and get away freak. I mean, we're regular people too. Beautiful regular people, but regular people nonetheless.

"People want to see if celebs are really like us," [Jenny] Schafer [senior editor for CelebrityBabyScoop.com] said. "Do their children have temper tantrums in public? Do their children use soothers? Do they ever get frustrated in public with their kids?"

Those answers are yes, yes and heck yes. But just because we are beautiful and awesome and loved by all doesn't give you the right to pry when I'm having a turkey club for lunch and Kaitlyn's fingers-deep in applesauce because she didn't want her chicken fingers. Give me five minutes to clean her up and maybe then -- maybe -- we'll sign your napkin. Just know it definitely won't happen if you're snapping your cell phone mid-chew.

So TomKat, I feel your pain. TomKitten's cute, for sure, but at least you've got a full squadron making sure everything goes according to plan. Try taking my Kaitlyn (who is so much cuter than your kid) out without a battalion of staffers and see if you make it through the day. You wouldn't last five minutes.

In Pictures: Strange(r) Days Before Motherhood

Michelle always tells me that I missed her in her prime. I don't necessarily know what that means, considering she's pretty good now. Maybe she didn't nag or complain as much back then. Maybe she had friends on the Swedish Bikini Team. I don't know.

While we can't go back in time to relive those days (unless we're John Cusack, which we aren't), we are very fortunate that Michelle loves pictures so much she keeps them. Forever. So instead of just wondering what it might have been like, we can actually see what it might have been like.

And as I write this, I sorta kinda think I should have done this on my last day of NaBloPoMo, since Michelle actual might kill me once she sees this post. Pray for me.

Take note of the leather bomber jacket. 

If you look real closely, you can see the socks bunching around the ankles. That was the style back then, kids.

Nothing screams sexy like floral print sundresses with t-shirts underneath. 

In Pictures: Kaitlyn's Strange(r) Times

I've been thinking, which is always dangerous: This blog has only been around since October (actually September, but it was only one day. I tend to think of that as the beginning of labor, but the real pushing ended October 1).

Taking that into account, I realize many of you never saw Kaitlyn 1.0, or what you could dub "The Quiet Year(s)". So I'm here to oblige with some of the strange(r) moments, pre-Growing Up Kaitlyn:

March 2008: Kaitlyn reads for the role of Mother Teresa in "Calcutta: The Musical!"

June 2008: They might look cool, but did you know they're actually made for dogs? Thanks, Nana

September 2008: Killer dog! Killer dog!

December 2008: Gene Simmons, eat your heart out

February 2009: Kaitlyn shows that her CPR training is paying off by checking her friend Lily's pulse

Strange(r)s Among Us, Part III

Dear Kaitlyn,

I know you're all of 26-months old and all, but you're still a genius and therefore I believe you're old enough to read this letter.

You may have noticed Mommy crying in the corner earlier in the evening. I know, I know, but Daddy didn't put this baby in a corner. You see, Mommy's just sad because two of her best friends went home today. You know how sad you get when you can't find Buzz and Woody when you want to go to bed? Well that's how Mommy feels -- times a gazillion.

Mommy and Aunt Laura and Aunt Erin have been friends for a very, very long time, Kaitlyn. I mean, very, very long. They were friends when they were your age. Okay, not quite, but gosh darn close to it. And they still act the way they did when they first met. Which is kind of cute and silly and immature all at the same time.

Mommy and Daddy hope you have your own Aunt Laura and Aunt Erin when you get older, because they have been really good friends to Mommy. Granted, Aunt Laura took Mommy to the Dominican and got her in trouble a couple of times and Aunt Erin has some tendencies, but you get the gist. They're good people.

And you don't know how happy it made Mommy to share her friends with you this weekend. She loved how the girls ooh-ed and ahh-ed over you. She loved how well behaved you were, even though you still won't go to bed at a reasonable hour and keep sneaking out of your room because an imaginary bear that isn't even a bear is stalking you (we'll talk more about that later).

So if you see some sniffles coming out from Mommy over the next day or two, it's not because Daddy's pulling an Ike this week. Mommy's just sad because her best-est friends had to go home. But don't worry; you'll see them sooner than later. At least we hope so.