The Gaga Diaries

Frogalator

/frog’ugh,later/

Noun: Toddler Gagaism for refrigerator. 

The other day I was getting ready in the bathroom while Toddler Gaga was watching Sesame Street and his sister was snoozing in her bassinet.  Just as I was starting to straighten my hair I heard the little lady rustle and begin to fuss.  Not wanting to leave the hot flat iron unsupervised with a curious two-year old running lose in the house, I started talking to Baby Gagette from the bathroom in hopes it would do the trick.  But it didn’t seem to be helping.  Her fussing was just escalating.  And then suddenly, suspiciously it stopped and everything got much too quiet. I started to get a little nervous, so I put the flat iron high up on a shelf, closed the bathroom door and raced into the bedroom where I came upon these two… 

…happily playing peek-a-boo.  And then my heart started beating again and proceeded to immediately melt on the floor in front of me.  Love these two and the special bond they already seem to share.  

                                    Toddler Gaga sets the table.

Okay, so he might have gotten a little creative with the two knife thing.  But at least he got the utensils on their proper sides! That’s more than I can say about certain other male members in this family.  

Madonna eat your heart out.  My son discovered the fashionable art of bracelet stacking by 26.5 months of age.  Future trend setter in the making right here! 

Five lollipops later and Toddler Gaga has an adorable, albeit crooked, new crew cut.  This video makes me realize he kind of has a Boston accent too.  How’d that happen?! 

[Video from February 1, 2013]

Yesterday was a rainy, grey, “don’t-get-out-of-your-jammies” kind of winter day.  The perfect time to introduce my son to the comforts of Cambric tea.   Hot water, milk, and sugar.  So simple, yet so delicious. A staple from my childhood.  I have many warm and fuzzy memories of sitting at my grandmother’s kitchen table, sipping on my Cambric tea and feeling like such a grownup.  My first impromptu tea party with the little guy was so special and I can’t wait to share many more cups with both my children as they grow. 

                            So when is “Talk like a Pirate Day” again?? 

The first Saturday of each month Home Depot hosts a DIY workshop where kids can come learn safety skills and make a craft.  It’s geared to ages 5-12, but anyone can attend. Each child gets a little orange apron, plus a badge-like pin and certificate of completion at the end.  We had never gone before, but Cousin Gaga and his daddy rave about it, so we decided to tag along this past weekend.  

It didn’t take long at all for us to learn three things: 

1) I am not handy. 

2) Toddler Gaga is not handy.  

3) Boy can my kid paint! 

The little guy enjoyed using the hammer (he kept saying “tap, tap, tap!”), but painting was where he really excelled.  In addition to his Valentines Day Card Holder, he also painted his pants, his sweater, his nails, and his Mimi’s shirt. Thankfully those smart folks at Home Depot thought ahead and bought washable paint.  We all had a lot of fun and can’t wait to go back on March 2nd (in our painting sweats this time!) for build your own race car.  

I don’t have many regrets in life, but one little thing I do wish is that I could go back in time and have professional shots taken of my newborns.  You know the ones I mean… sleepy itty bitty babies, little rumps in the air, cute crocheted hats that look like owls etc. I nearly had a heart attack a couple weeks ago when I realized my then 21-day old was already too old for these types of artsy newborn photos.  They recommend you take them within the first ten days of life to get those sleepy, curled up, angelic shots.  They start waking up and wiggling too much after that.  Gaaaah! My little girl was less than a month old and it already felt like she was growing up too fast.

Deciding it’s better late than never I scheduled a little photo session for both kids this past Thursday and decided to invite the cousins along too.  My mom and I (ok, mostly my mom) spent most of the day hemming clothes and coordinating matching outfits for all four kids.  We made sure they each were bathed, brushed, fed and well-rested before our 4pm appointment. We got to the studio on time all ready to snap some memories.  

And wouldn’t you know my son — the ham who typically LOVES to pose for our camera — proceeded to scream in terror and refuse to have his picture taken for almost the whole two hour appointment.  All he wanted to do was hide out in baby jail (aka the playpen with a few lame toys in it).  

Meanwhile my brother’s kids were busy working it for the camera.  

I tried everything with Toddler Gaga — having the photographer take my picture first, having her take a picture of us together, playing with his cousin on set to warm up, enticing him with toys and props — nothing worked. I finally gave up and decided we’d focus on getting some of those solo newborn shots I was hoping to capture with Baby Gagette.  And wouldn’t you know, my mellow little girl who typically never fusses over anything, decided to take her cues from her brother.  Any time I even attempted to put her down she would turn beat red and cry in terror.  Sigh. 

It wasn’t until we stopped trying so hard that the magic finally happened.  Nearly an hour and a half into the portrait session, Toddler Gaga decided he was ready to get up on stage with his best friend and we got some beauties like this one.  

As for my daughter? The photographer never did manage to snap a single photo of her that day.  But of course when she finally put her camera away, that’s when my baby girl decided to calm down and cooperate.  While the photographer was busy editing shots on her computer, I decided to play around a bit.  And all I have to say is thank god for iPhones.  

Who needs a bunch of perfect professional newborn shots.  This camera phone photo Baby Gagette made me work crazy extra hard for that day is much more memorable anyway! 

           Newborn vs. toddler.  This still makes me chuckle every time.  

This picture pretty much sums everything up right now.  After getting used to life with a two year old, life with a newborn seems like a walk in the park.  Seriously.  I can’t believe how difficult Papa Gaga and I thought this time in our life was two years ago. If only we knew then what we know now. Everything is so much easier the second time around — recovery from childbirth, breastfeeding, even the sleep deprivation doesn’t feel nearly as bad.  The diapering/feeding/burping newborn rituals are just second nature now to the point where I hardly even think about what I’m doing.  And in the rare instances when I’m alone with just Baby Gagette, I can get SO much done.  It kind of feels like (I still can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s true!) I’m on vacation when I just have to take care of my newborn.   But life with a newborn plus a toddler? Now *that’s* a whole different story… 

Rule #1 of fire safety: never play with matches boys and girls!

Rule #2: make sure you look extra adorable in your ‘fire fight-uh’ getup when delivering your fire safety PSA.  

Day 16: This sweet photo of Toddler Gaga rocking his baby seester to sleep was taken just moments before he then gently hit her foot and looked up at us to see how we’d react. Thankfully it was actually just bunched up blanket where he uh, “love tapped,” and Baby Gagette didn’t so much as bat an eyelash while the little guy got an extra lesson on being gentle. And so the real fun begins…

I have a feeling his obsession with this song (and Rudolph, and Frosty, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town) is going to continue well after December 25th.  Yup, he is definitely my son! 

A lot of people have asked me if I think Baby Gaga understands that I’m pregnant and that he is going to have a baby sister in the very near future.  Most of what I’ve read on this topic leads me to believe that he is far too little to really grasp the abstract complexity of all that’s going on and that wouldn’t usually happen until closer to age three. But then the other day he invented what I like to call the “Baby in Mommy’s Belly” game.  

Out of nowhere he came over to me while I was sitting at the computer, said “Hi, Baby!” to my belly, lifted up my shirt, gently kissed my belly button, lowered my shirt, said “Bye, Baby!” and then demanded “More, Baby!’ repeating the routine over and over again several times.  I was floored.  I’ve hardly talked about the baby in mommy’s belly, assuming he’s just too little to understand.  But just when I was starting to think I should bust out the early admission application I have tucked away in my bottom drawer for Harvard MIT, my little guy proceeded to lift up his own shirt, pat his little pot belly and proudly exclaim “BABY!!”