Brown can do it...

Or something like that. I can't remember what the UPS slogan is because we don't own a TV, and they don't air ads during Hulu watchings of Glee. That's not the story though... this is about our dog.

Scupper, for those of you unacquainted -- although I guess that's stupid because most of you HAVE met Scupper at one point or another -- is a barker. We have no idea what part of him is that (maybe terrier?) but he's a barker. At everything. At us when we come home (bark bark! they are home! i love my family!), at anyone that comes to the door (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my porch?), to anyone walking by the house (bark bark! who are you? what are you doing on my street where i can see you?), to weird people on the beach (bark bark! you have a cane! i'm confused!), to his own butt (bark bark! i have a piece of grass stuck in my butt!) Needless to say, this is gets old. It's been old. In fact, it's so old, it's ancient. But we put up with it because he's a loving dog. It just annoys the heck out of us.

In his normal barking habits, he's taken to barking at the mail lady if he's out lounging in the yard and of course, the UPS man. We get diapers delivered from Amazon (b/c there is no Target in SB, kids) and the UPS faithfully brings them every 8 weeks when Stella is just about out. He learned very quickly we have a dog who is usually lounging outside in the mornings and he gives Scupper the largest Milkbones I have ever seen, drops off the box, and heads back out to the truck before Scup can bark too much or jump on him with dog licks. Lately, Scupper has been barking when he drives by, so last week, I saw him stop, deliver a package to the next door neighbor, heave a Milkbone over the fence, and hop in his truck.

Today - he drove by, Scupper barked, he slowed down ever so slightly, threw a Milkbone out the UPS truck door, and kept on driving.

I have got to get his name and send him a thank you. Above and beyond the call of duty, eh?

Scupper is also addicted to playing soccer. But that's a story for another time. And best be sure, it involves barking. (bark bark! do you see that ball? yes, that ball? Ball! Kick it! now! To me! bark bark!)

On her own terms...

Stella has been "diagnosed" with an Expressive Language delay. We are into week 2 of speech therapy - and luckily, it is all being arranged and covered by a state agency located here in SB. It seems that she was above her age range in the other development tests - motor skills, cognition - and even "receptive language" - i.e. she understands just about everything. She just doesn't/can't put it into words. However, since her first evaluation, she's definitely been getting better. This past week, she finally began to say "Mama" with the intent of calling or naming me... whereas before it was merely a moniker without a home. I think it's pretty damn cool. (I'm sure this will wear off soon after the ump-teenth "Mama" when she's in need of something).  Yesterday, during her session, she refused to say "moo" or "cow" and instead began hiding under a blanket and playing peek-a-boo. I don't envy our therapist. She kept trying to elicit responses from Stella for various objects to no avail. Stella rolled around in my lap and ignored her. When the therapist assume Stella's attention was just gone for the day, Stella turned to my shirt - and pointed to the various colored origami shapes and started saying "Lellow." "Bue." "Pink." "Geen." The therapist looked at me astonished (and frankly, I was too because she was 1) talking understandably and 2) getting the colors right.) She then suggested that Stella will have to come to speech therapy on her "own terms" and we'll just have to keep inventing new ways of making it fun for her. Otherwise, she just decides that it's not worth it, and won't talk. Ah, our little independent girl.

She also thinks that hot pads make awesome slippers. Go figure.

Raindrops on roses...

As much as I may complain (maybe not on the blog, but at least to my poor mother) about how tough these toddler times are right now (really? can she really push my buttons that much??) Stella, when she's happy, is a joy. I need to learn a few lessons from the way she interacts with the world around her. Gusto. That's the best word to describe it. Gusto.

Some of her favorite things right now...

- reading. Sitting and reading books - and longer books too. Overnight it seemed we went from Miss Itchy pants if the book was longer than 5 minutes to long stories. Thank goodness for the local library because I was getting pretty sick of the pile that we have, even though my mother keeps us well stocked in the book department. (I am going to feel bad if and when my brother ever has kids because Stella sure has gotten quite a few of Mrs. Z's awesome kindergarten books).

- spinning. You know - spinning until you start to walk fun and might just fall down? Spinning is pretty fun this house right now.

- singing. Everything is a song  - I can't understand the words, but Stella sure likes singing. (see below post and the "ode to pizza dough" she does in the middle). My mother kept doing the hand motions to Wheels on the Bus and Monkeys on the bed while she was here, and now those are standbys. She rolls her arms around in a circle and it usually means I had better start singing Wheels on the Bus or there might be trouble. (Did you know that there was a verse, compliments of Steve, that starts with "the oil pump on the bus goes squirt, squirt, squirt.." Nope, I didn't either, but now it's part of our song).

- cooking and dishes. Stella has gotten pretty bossy in the kitchen, actually. She demanded to be taught how to crack eggs for a cake I made this weekend and she did pretty good, actually. In fact, whenver I go to even cut cheese, she grabs for the stool that she stands on to "help" and gets pissy if i don't let her up to see what's going on. After we cook, I can always get her to help me with the dishes, which usually involves her filling up clean cups, measuring spoons, and the like with the dishwater and either actually pouring it back in the sink, or down the front of her shirt. But hey, that's better than playing in the dog's water bowl, which is a close second to doing the dishes. Maybe she'll be a marine biologist? Or a deep sea diver...

- school. Literally, she's been there 3 times now and she's so excited about going. She squealed in utter delight when we rolled into the parking lot. I think she also enjoys carrying her own lunch box. She thinks that's pretty darn cool.

- hikes. If she could say "outside" yet, i think it might be her favorite word. Instead, she grabs at the front door handle with all of her might, hoping she can twist it enough to get it open. This week we hunted for frogs in the woods, played in tide pools at the beach, and watched the gophers shove their cheeks with grass at the dog park. (A big favorite). Steve was able to snap this rare photo of us (rare, because I"m usually behind the camera) in the fading sunset outside the butterfly preserve. I can't complain though. In fact, I guess I'm pretty lucky to have such an adventurous little girl.

Stella's Submission for Top Chef AND American Idol...

Growing up too fast

Next Tuesday, Stella starts at a local preschool 3 mornings a week. Okay, it's sort of a preschool and probably more of a daycare at her age, but nonetheless, I ran around Santa Barbara for two weeks looking at different places. We started a month ago with a babysitter at the home two mornings a week so this Momma here could write an article that she is WAY BEHIND on, and after the first week, I realized that 1) a local preschool was actually cheaper than an in-home babysitter and 2) Stella lights up when she interacts with other children, whether at the local playground, the beach, the dog park, etc. So partly motivated by my scant pocketbook, but mostly by Stella's need to socialize, I found a place that is within walking (or biking) distance to place her for a few mornings a week.

And then I freaked out that my baby girl was growing up.

I think what really made me realize that she was now a "big girl" and "going to school" was the need to purchase a lunch bag and small tupperware containers for her lunch. A lunch box? Already? (It's pretty cute, though, isn't it?)

This week we went a few mornings for a "Trial run." I stayed with her for the first day, disappeared for an hour the next day, and tomorrow, she is dropped off for the entire time, with me "on call" in case she melts down. The first day, she never looked back - just hopped into the sandbox with the other children, following them inside for quiet play and snacks, happily grabbed for paint brushes and pipe cleaners, and the like. The second day when I actually tried to leave, it was a little harder, with her wrapping her legs around my middle, crying big tears. (which, i was told, stopped in about 2 minutes after I left). Why do kids make it so hard on us parents? I walked to the local coffee shop with my research, feeling the largest hunk of guilt settling uneasily in my stomach. Steve wondered aloud at dinner last night if she's ready to be "institutionalized" - I asked him what he meant. "Oh, you know, learning to all line up, follow the leader, sitting down to lunch with a group of kids, taking directives... you know, the beginnings of institutionalization." Oh dear, it is as if we live in Communist state or something!

But in some ways, I hear his thoughts. I wonder how my free-spirit, my independent, stubborn, excitable daughter will act each day with a larger group of children. I wonder will she have as much passion for activities or will she stand back and watch? We are all different people in the comfort of our families versus in the company of others.

As I start to label her outside fleece, consider what the heck I'm going to pack in the lunch box, and plan my research agenda for the next few weeks, I want to hold all these moments, these precious toddler moments, in my head, and hope that in 20 years, I don't forget how great this time, being almost two. Sure, she exhausts me like hell, but I think I do secretly love (al)most every minute of it. Maybe this, this feeling, is why people want to have another kid. Not to deal with the terrible twos all over again, but to feel the wonderful twos all over again.

7:20 am, baby in stroller, with a bubble wrap package on her head, all of her own devising. Yep. That's our silly little gal.

Wordless Wednesday (almost)

If Stella were an actor, she'd have a pretty serious headshot.

Never a dull moment...

I've actually  been asked by a friend for a new blog post. My Christmas New Year rather belated holiday greeting recap of 2010 is getting old, but sadly, when the day "ends" at 9:30 at night (aka when Steve and I finally sit down for a breather) chronicling the adventures of the Germonskis seems to be the last thing on my mind. However, if I don't sit and blog a little from time to time, Stella will never have a proper baby book (as the blog so often ends up becoming) and I'll be too old, batty, and senile to remember fondly the moments of her youth.

Like these: another camping trip marred by an event... Dec. 31, 2010 we head to the valley beyond the small mountain range right out of town. 40 minute drive (and that's in the VW!) to a small camping area in the Santa Ynez Valley... just for the night. Just for a try to see what it's like when you actually might get a full night of sleep with a toddler and a dog in a van. Just maybe.

Stella likes the pop top.

 Scupper was cold so we fashioned a "poncho" out of his dog towel.

We brought a little propane heater acceptable for tents and campers that kept us all toasty in the 35 degree nighttime weather, so toasty in fact that Scupper refused to sit outside with us by the fire and instead happily climbed in his usual front driver seat perch to bed down early for the night.


Stella enjoyed marveling at the wonders of gloves, eating by candlelight, and headlamps. At 5:30 at night, we heard a car come racing around the bend near the campground and slam into the utility pole nearest our site. People rushed around, the campground hosts were contacted, and a while later, a police car and ambulance showed up. We did not know what happened to the driver, although the car ended up in the ditch off the side of the road.
              What we do know however is the the aforementioned slamming of said pole caused the electric company to come out and investigate. And when you live in California, and wildfires happen because of downed power lines, you don't mess around. You don't mess around in fact, even on New Year's Eve. You send out guys to replace the utility pole. At 10pm at night. And they come. Because, hell, it's New Year's Eve and they are probably getting like quadruple pay. And they replace the utility pole. UNTIL TWO IN THE MORNING. With chain saws. And jackhammers. And jokes. And loud guffaws. And then Stella wakes up at 5 in the morning because she's having intestinal distress from the campfire dinner of the night before and you just pack up and go back over the mountain. Because hey, it's only 40 minutes, it's 6am, and you are used to camping trips just never going smoothly.

Yep. 5am folks.

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In the department of 2011 adventures that have gone smoothly, my parents graced us with a wonderful visit for two weeks. I got to play tourist in Santa Barbara with Stella and her Delaware grandparents, and Stella had a ball having two other playmates that were here to do nothing but love on her. The joy that she exuded when they showed up in the morning, the smile across her face at seeing my father and mother elated me to no end - and reminded me why families chose NOT to move 3200 miles away from their kin in years gone by.

 Stella appropriately showed off...

 And tried to use chopsticks

 Snuggled with Grampy

 Had way too much playing with her dolly and Grammy

And rocked out basically every day. Yep. Daughter of theatrical parents right there. No denying that.

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One more amusing Stella story... I finally squelched the impulse for people to think I was a neurotic first time mom and went to the doctor to have her evaluate Stella's speech (or lack there of). She suggested for her to get her hearing tested (passed with flying colors) and have an evaluation done by the local center that usually works with children and families with an array of disabilities. I told the social worker on the phone before our first appointment that Stella had 3 clear words that she used often, which, at that point, was true. No, uh-oh, and hi. Occasional words included kick, dig, sit, stick (all related to Scupper, go figure) and when she was feeling blue, mama. At almost 22 months, the woman said we should definitely have a meeting and also scheduled a speech therapist to do a further evaluation.

In the week it took for the therapist to show up at our house, Stella increased her phrases to "more please (or in Stella speak "morah thease") and added a voracious usage of "baby" due to the increased attention paid to her soft doll. When she arrived, although we were in her environment, Stella wasn't into playing the woman's games - she wouldn't talk for her, for me, or even do any of her favorite animal sounds. The woman flipped through a book with photos of everyday life things and asked Stella to either say or point to the picture. "Can you find the book? the ball? the dog?" yes yes and yes. But no words. On the page with food, "Can you show me the cookies?" prompted Stella to think on it a lot. I told the woman that we rarely had them (I think she was little surprised). And yet, the minute she turned to the page with pictures of animals and farm equipment, Stella blurts out "TRACT - TAH"

The therapist looks at me in surprise. So now I'm not sure whether 'tractor' qualified us for therapy or not. ;)