Tooth #13, 14, A compilation of posts (a mix tape, if you will)

Finally, we welcome the arrival of the last two teeth for some time (please God, let there be some time before we start molars. Thank you). Teeth #13 and #14 have arrived. These are the last two until the two year molars make their appearance sometime in the next year.

We have been busy busy busy.

I got a bee in my bonnet and decided it was high time to take our family berry picking after hearing a 20 second story on the news. My strawberry patch isn't yielding any berries yet and we were OUT of strawberry jelly around here. EMERGENCY!

So, John took some time off and we went and picked strawberries. We picked and picked and picked. Twenty six pounds later, we rode home happy with our haul. William, surprisingly was a wonderful helper. He did not sample the berries and took his job seriously as picker. He located and gently picked only the reddest and nicest looking strawberries. He also managed to not SIT on any strawberries. Hurray! So proud!

The rough plan was to make up some batches of strawberry jam over the weekend. This is something I have fond memories of from growing up. There was always chaos of kids running through the kitchen and the noise of the mashing, cutting, boiling, etc required by the jam process. I had warm fuzzy plans of William helping us stir and mash...until I thought things through and decided although he was a stellar picker, he (read: I) wasn't ready for him to be a helper in the jam process. Especially since I don't really recall what all happens to make jam.

So, John and I ended up staying up until the wee hours of the morning making some strawberry jam. With almost every single one of the strawberries in that twenty six pounds. We were EXHAUSTED. And, I'm pretty sure we won't need to make jam for at least another year.

Strawberry picker #0. She rode in the hiking backpack in order to keep us sane.
Strawberry Picker #1
Mama and William picking strawberries
Mama and William picking strawberries - I thought for sure we were going to get rained on. Somehow we got lucky and stayed dry. But, the humidity? Was terrible.
The berries tucked safely in the truck behind the stroller.

-------------------------------------------------

We've been trying to squeeze in bike riding practice whenever possible. It gets to be a little tricky because Amelia certainly has her own agenda when we are outside (scratch that, she ALWAYS has her own agenda). It is not possible to help William conquer the Fear of the Bike and chase the little daredevil out of the street. It is possible to put her in the stroller and have William pedal. The problem here being Amelia is only happy in the stroller when it is moving. No movement? She is climbing out, head first. Being that William prefers to pedal his bike .000000000000098 miles per hour (kid you not, it took him over an hour to pedal/argue/complain his way around the block which is less than .1 miles total), she is not happy to just Sit and Wait Patiently. So, John needs to be home and the evening needs to be less than boiling hot in order to maximize the patience of the parent assisting. So far we have mastered getting on/off the bike, pedaling, taking the helmet off, and braking. Next up: looking both ways before crossing the street, watching where you are going so as not to run over small people, pedaling, going down/up a curb without tipping over.

--------------------------------------------

Amelia is a climber. She will work her way up onto chairs, coffee tables, toys and such until she reaches the highest point in an area. And then she realizes she doesn't know how (or doesn't remember) how to get down. Recently, I was reading to William in our open living room attached to the kitchen. I knew Amelia was in there, but figured I had time to read the last one and a half pages before I had to pull her off something. Then I heard an unfamiliar clinking sound like someone putting away some glass glasses. I finished up reading to William and when I stood up, I saw Amelia standing (STANDING!) in the middle of the kitchen table touching the metal rings on the glass light fixture. Lucky for me, she wasn't swinging from the chandelier, but it was a close call.

As this habit has developed, I'm repeatedly telling Amelia to "Get Down!" "No no nononononononoooo!" So, days after our kitchen table experiment I was interrupted in my Highly Important laundry folding to Amelia bellowing "Get Down!!!" "No no!!!" from the top of our dining room table. This trend has continued and now when she reaches the summit of her climb, she yells "Get Down!!!" "No no!!!" to alert me she is ready to be lifted down so she can locate another tall object to scale.