Grandma Vickie's visit

I'll slideshow a slew of pics on Sunday, but for now here's a tease.

Chilling with Grandma

It's been quite a week for Greta. Aunt Chris from Sunday until Wednesday, then Grandma Pandillo the rest of the week until Sunday! I'll admit we didn't have the camera as handy as usual, but I'll try to get more snapshots on Saturday. For now, here's Grandma and granddaughter getting ready for daycare. She never smiles like that for me when I put on her shoes.

Aunt love

Last birthday photo

Figured everyone should see the fancy hat Carey made for Greta.

Aunt Chris is in town for a couple days attending a work conference and Grandma Pandillo arrives tonight. So plenty of pix coming of the Mathews girls and their niece/grandaughter.

Birthday faces

Happy Second Birthday, Greta!

How is it possible that two years have passed since our world was blessed with this remarkable little girl? I often catch myself staring at her, trying to get a glimpse of the itty-bity baby I remember. She is growing up so quickly, though, it is harder and harder to capture that look of newborn innocence. Earlier this week, someone said to me that once you become a parent, the days are long, but the years fly by. Truer words were never spoken.

On this second birthday, Greta, know that no matter the length of the days or the speed of the years, your Mommy and Daddy will love you and cherish each moment with you. You are incredible and bring such happiness to our lives. I am eager to see what the coming year has in store for you, and us, as we continue this exciting journey together!

It's my birthday!

A little more than a month ago, on somebody else's birthday, Carey taught Greta how to say, "my birthday's coming." Well, here it is, and what does Greta say when she wakes up at, ahem, 4:30 a.m.? "It's my birthday!" It has come, indeed, my precious daughter. I don't feel the need to recount the year as I have this wonderful digital testament to everything you did. Suffice it to say that I couldn't be a prouder Daddy.

It's only 1:30 and Greta's about to wake up from her nap, so I'll post more later. For now, here are a few photos from her 730th day on Earth.

Mother & Child Reunion

OK, so the Paul Simon song title is more appropriate than the actual lyrics.

In any case, Mommy's home!!! She got here just before 8 p.m., in time to read Greta a couple books before bed. Here's the only decent photo I got of their reunion.


I'll let Carey post more about her discharge orders, but it doesn't sound too dire to me. Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise, we might get Otto to 36 weeks.

Otto update

Carey had a nice conversation with the director of the high-risk clinic this morning and said she didn't sound too alarmed. But latest baby scan does show the umbilical cord around the little bugger's neck. (He's 2 lbs, 14 oz., by the way.) Not sure what that means, but strangling is not the right metaphor. It's more like the head compresses the cord during contractions. Not something they perform emergency surgery for, in any case.

And so we wait for afternoon guidance. Hopes are high she'll come home tonight, which will make Daddy & Greta very happy.

Bed head

The Missus now has a toothbrush and a change of clothes, so she's good until late June. Actually, they moved her today from the labor ward to ante-partum and Otto scored an A in his bio-scan, so we're cautiously optimistic that she'll be discharged tomorrow. In the meantime, another Daddy-only night for Greta.

Otto update

Ryan and I agree that the name is a good fit when talking in the abstract about our unborn son. Fun to write, fun to say.

Carey just called from the hospital. They are giving her the last steroid shot tonight at 7pm, so Otto's lungs have the extra jolt they need if he arrives early. And they gave her something to stop her contractions. The logic is that if the contractions relax, so will the heart decelerations. Our best scenario at the moment: They release her Thursday evening and she goes back next week for more monitoring.

I haven't visited yet (heading over during my lunch hour), but I get the sense now that they're not as nervous. There's no sign of fetal trauma and the fact that Greta is healthy after experiencing the same thing is at least anecdotally reassuring.

Will post a photo of Carey in a green gown later this afternoon.

How's your heartbeat?

I blog alone from home tonight. Greta is safely asleep upstairs, but Carey is in the maternity ward at Bethesda National Naval Medical Center. I can smell the place, and hear it, too -- antiseptics and the beep beep beep of all those monitors. Carey went in today for her 28-week appointment. The doctors decided early in her pregnancy that they would give her a check-up twice per week when she hit the 28-week mark. Every pregnancy is different, they say, but caution definitely rules at Bethesda Naval. Anyway, long story short -- they hook Carey up to the damn fetal heart rate monitor for an hour and during that time our son's heart rate decelerates to a degree that the docs find alarming. So they admit Carey overnight for observation. It's been a few hours since the last episode and if all goes well tonight, Carey will come home tomorrow. But I can't help but think this is only the beginning. This kid will be lucky to stay in the womb until 36 weeks (the time Carey's doctors have already determined for the birth-- they don't want her going into labor at all because of her previous complications).

But since this blog is still called Greta Grows, a few words about our lovely evening together. I don't do the solo nighttime routine often. In fact, I think I can count the times on one hand! So I was a little nervous picking her up at daycare. But she came running, hugged me around the knees, and led me over to the mat where about seven kids were seated watching one of the daycare ladies push buttons on what can best be described as a toddler computer. Sort of a plastic workstation that does some very simple things like counting, matching, etc. Greta made me sit there for a good five minutes. She didn't talk about the computer or what she was watching, despite my inquiries. I think she just wanted to share a little of her day with Daddy. We finally got out of there around 6 p.m. and home just before 6:30. I successfully avoided any food prep by walking her down the block to what she calls "the smoothie shop!" Tropical Smoothie Cafe is its real name. Greta loves the chicken quesadilla, which she sometimes calls a pizza, because that's how she eats it. Even the kid's portion comes with four good-sized triangles and she ate three! Got possessive when I tried to nibble some for myself, in fact. We got home around 7 and played on the deck for awhile, where I'm sorry to say, Mommy, Greta uprooted another flower. I scolded her the best I could and forced her to sit in time-out for a couple minutes, but I'm not sure she absorbed the lesson. Another apology to our downstairs neighbor is in order. (Our deck is made of wooden planks with space between them, so dirt and other debris regularly drops through the cracks.) By 7:15 we were in the bath, where Greta amused herself by filling up an empty hotel shampoo bottle and squeezing out the water. The rest of the bedtime routine passed without incident. She pooped like clockwork in her fresh diaper about 10 minutes after I changed it. Announced her intent to poop, prompting me to ask her if she wanted to sit on the potty, but she decisively replied, "I poop in diaper." And so she did. After a brief game of "tickle monster" on the guest bed (She and I crawl stealthily into the bedroom, where I whisper the location of the monster and urge her not to disturb him. She climbs slowly onto the bed and jostles the targeted pillow and I jump on her, tickling like crazy and yelling, "No! Don't disturb the tickle monster!), we read four books. Favorite book lately is from Aaron & Amy Reid. Carrot Soup. It's best read on the floor, apparently. Four or five renditions of "Now I lay me down to sleep" and she was out shortly after 8.

For those of you who read this far, congratulations. And thanks for letting me ramble on a night when Carey's not hear to listen.

Late update

Sorry for the delayed post about Greta's trip to Syracuse. The last ten days have been a bit crazy as we worked through her transition to the toddler bed (blog posts about that success story to come soon), so evening blogging was out, and who could possibly blog on the weekend, between the fantastic weather and spring cleaning? Excuses aside (and awake early because of annoying allergies), here are the highlights of our long weekend (in mostly chronological order):

1. Modes of Transportation. It was Greta's first ride in a taxi. Greta LOVED getting into a "yellow car" and riding to and from the airport. All weekend in Syracuse (and in the days since), she proudly tells everyone "I ride taxicab." I think she enjoyed the cab ride more than the airplane ride!

She flew like a pro, though, despite the hour-long delays in both directions. Fell asleep five minutes after take-off on the way to Syracuse, but stayed fired up on the way home, saying during takeoff: "Bye-bye Syracuse. Bye Grandma. Bye Great-Grandma. Bye doggies. Bye fish. Bye cousins". Declared to her daycare providers on Monday: "I ride taxicab. I fly airplane to Grandma's."

2. Snow. When we arrived in Syracuse on April 21st, there was still snow on the ground, which provided much entertainment: sledding, snowball throwing with cocker spaniels Molly and Maggie, and good, old-fashioned, mud puddle splashing as it melted. By the time it disappeared on Thursday, Greta was asking for "More snow, mommy?" Everyone hoped her wish would NOT be granted... but this is Syracuse, after all, so who knows! I think it has snowed in May before...


3. Grandma Pandillo's Backyard. First, it is well-landscaped for sledding. Second, there is a big fish pond, with even bigger fish. Third, there are over a half-dozen bird feeders that require attention, and pouring/sprinkling bird food is more fun than feeding the Jinx and Sasha. Fourth, squirrels perform like circus freaks trying to get to the bird food. Fifth, Grandma lets Greta pick flowers from the garden (and Mommy doesn't... in fact, flower picking on the deck at home results in a time out).
4. Dogs. Maggie, Molly, and Mackenzie at Grandma's. Bonnie at Great Grandma's. Sadie and Casey at Aunt Colleen and Uncle Abel's house. For our little animal lover, it was like having a petting zoo whenever she wanted. And they make unwanted food from dinner plates easily disappear.
5. Great Grandma Manguno's House. A backyard with a bunny rabbit. Cookies at 10 in the morning. Pine cones to pick up out front. What more does a girl need?

6. Cousins. It didn't take long at all for the girls to warm up to one another, once all three were awake at the same time. I think fast friendships were formed at the Wegman's playground and while waiting for Matthew to come home from school on the bus.

Greta was fascinated by Matthew. He led the little triumvirate in snow-stomping and backyard run-arounds, much to the delight of Greta and Emily. And he helped Greta use the potty chair. Over the last week, whenever she overhears me mention her potty escapades in Syracuse, she interjects "Matthew potties standing up. I sit down."
Greta is a big fan of cousin Allison, too, who shared her toddler bed for Greta's naps and for Friday's sleep-over. Greta reminds me regularly that "I sleep in Allison's bed." Emily and Greta didn't say too much to one another, but shared a lot of quiet, close moments over the three days they had together, watching birds, having a bathtub tea party, picking flowers, and catching some zzz's. Sometimes words just aren't needed.

It was a wonderful, relaxing getaway for us. We look forward to seeing everyone again soon!

Potty training

I guess Greta's getting the hang of it, because she was at Daddy's soccer game today when she calmly declared, "potty!" But far be it for the rich taxpayers in Potomac, Md., to provide port-a-potties at their Avenel fields. So Greta did what any girl scout would do: she dropped trough and tinkled under a tree. Actually, Mommy can't confirm that she peed, but we sure were proud nonetheless. Wish the game were as eventful. Good Craic (that's your humble blogger's team -- it's some sort of Irish toast) couldn't find the back of the net. The good news is neither could the other team. So chalk up 1 point for the 0-0 tie.

Sunny Saturday

Mild and fair in your nation's capital. Seems a shame to be inside blogging. But Greta can't sleep alone, I'm told. We had a laid-back morning with breakfast at our favorite bagel shop, a stroll through the farmer's market (where the sidewalk was carpeted with pink flowers), and a trip to the commissary (where I pulled a chocolate coin out of Greta's ear!).

Peanut art

Carey may not post to this blog very often --- who has the time? -- but she must read it along with the rest of you. I was clearing out the camera's memory today and found this photo, obviously inspired by my previous post about Greta's love for packing peanuts. Now, would I have ever thought to use them for a tactile art project? Of course not. And therein lies the fundamental difference between Mommies and Daddies. I did the hunting (or the gathering, if you must), and she takes the raw material to make something nice for the family and our home.

Photos from Syracuse

Hopefully Carey will find time to share a few stories, but I did the dirty work -- uploading 98 photos from her extended visit to Syracuse last weekend. I wasn't there, obviously, but I captioned a few based on what she told me when we first watched them together.

Here's the slideshow link.

So much for a peanut allergy

What accounts for childhood fascinations?

After a few very windy recent days, our "backyard" (read: the parking lot behind our townhouse garage) was littered with debris. Most of it is picked up by now, but packing peanuts are the cockroaches of trash -- you can try to exterminate them, but they swirl forever around garbage cans, stick like ants to grass, and create colonies under shrubbery.

And thank God, too, because they fascinate Greta Merrill like nothing else. Elmo himself doesn't hold the allure of these crinkly, s-shaped bits of Styrofoam. I now allot at least 10 minutes in our morning routine for a peanut hunt. "My peanuts!" she declares, as she chases them all over the place. When she catches one, she crushes it in her tiny hands and watches the confetti blow away.

In La-La land

In case loyal readers were wondering, I'm not blogging about Greta because I'm in L.A. this week attending the Knight New Media seminar "Covering Politics in Cyberspace." The name is more exciting than the conference, trust me. But I do have a cool hotel room on the 27th floor, overlooking the Hollywood hills. And the elevator at the hotel was used in the 1993 film "In the Line of Fire" during a scene with Clint Eastwood. Nobody at the conference can remember the scene. That's been my conversation starter with most of the attendees. Meanwhile, Carey's in Syracuse visiting her family and without the USB cord for the camera. So no pictures until Sunday, I'm afraid. Until then, here's the view out my window. Not enough zoom to show the HOLLYWOOD sign, but it's on the hill in the distance, closer to the left than the right.

Precious moments

Almost two years into this parenting thing, and I'll be honest, many precious moments pass in a blur. You don't have time to reflect, to appreciate certain milestones -- from the simple (Greta now says "Yes" instead of "Yup") to the advanced (her comprehension of sharing on the playground).

But a few nights ago, at about 10:30 p.m. after a fitful start to her slumber, Greta and I had a moment. She went down about 8 p.m. but had already required two visits to settle her back down in the big girl bed. Mommy went upstairs both times, told her it was bedtime, and rocked her for one song in her chair. She'd sleep for 30 minutes or so, then wail and have the comfort cycle repeated. When she cried out at 10:30, I went upstairs. Our beautiful almost-2-year-old is standing at the baby gate, a blanket in one arm and another over her head, barely able to catch her breath through the tears and sniffling. I pick her up, wipe her nose and dry her eyes, position a blanket on my shoulder and say, "It's OK, I love you, Greta." Greta doesn't lift her head, but she speaks clearly into my shoulder, "I love you too, Daddy."

Rainy day people

A wet and wild weekend in your nation's capital. Saturday was mostly shopping. Greta scored at least six outfits as Mommy maxed out her AmEx. We also visited Thomas the Train at Barnes & Noble, where we thumbed through "100,001 Baby Names." At one point Carey said, aloud, "Bennett, I like that name. Two N's, two T's, goes well with the two R's and two L's in Merrill. Bennett, sounds nice." Five seconds later the Dad to her left says, "Bennett, play nice and share." How odd is that? Anyway, 100,001 names later and I still like Otto and Sterling.

Sunday we chilled out with the Bengs girls, dreaming about drier weather. Daddy caught a movie ("Shooter" starring Marky Mark Wahlberg, long past his Funky Bunch days). I left the house as Greta was going down for her nap and I returned to this.

Also had a nice dinner with Aunt Kathy at Generous George's, probably the most kid-friendly local joint around.

Now it's 8 p.m. and we say our silent prayer for the first restful night in the big girl bed.

Good vibrations

Remember my low-back problems? This reveals how tidy we are at the Merrill house, but the massager that got frequent use that week is still on our bedside table. Been there for more than two months, but Greta just noticed it a few nights ago. Now this ritual has become part of her pre-bedtime routine.

Farewell, crib

Just a brief post to mark a milestone: Greta has slept in her crib for the last time. Since we got back from N.H., we've been in this limbo -- starting nights in the toddler bed and then sometimes moving to the crib after she's fallen out of the toddler bed for the third time at 3 a.m. But last night we put her down in the crib at 7:30 and heard a loud "thunk" at about 8. The monkey climbed right out! We're not sure how she landed, because when we both arrived breathless after running up the stairs, Greta looked at us and said, "Diaper change!" We looked her over and there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage. Carey was pretty shaken about it all, but as I told her, we're surely not the first parents to wait too long before dismantling a crib.

First friends

Obviously Greta enjoys reaching milestones in the company of Aaron & Amy. Who can forget Easter 2006, when she toddled her first unsupported steps? And Oct. 2006, when she bit into a whole apple fresh off the tree for the first time?

Well, add to it Easter 2007, when she spent much of the weekend sitting on the toilet with her diaper on, then pretending to wipe herself, then flushing, then washing her hands. She may have peed a few of those times, we're not sure. But we are sure that we arrived home this afternoon and while we were unpacking, Greta went into the bathroom and sat on her potty training seat. I asked if she wanted her diaper removed and she said, "otay." So we sat there for awhile silently, with Greta dabbing herself down there periodically with toilet paper. After a minute or so, I asked her if she was "all done," assuming this was nothing but another dry practice run. I hadn't heard any liquid splash into the bowl, after all. So she stands up, naked, on our very white bath mat. Makes a couple more cursory wipes from front to back, and then starts to take a step out the door. At that point a 4" turd drops from her bottom and lands on the very white bath mat. She's straddling it with her size 4 feet and the first thing I do is say, "don't move!" She obeys and I pick up the turd and drop it in the toilet. By now Carey has heard me exclaim something to the effect of, "oh my god, she pooped!" and has come running in to see for herself. My wife, not as concerned as I am about the skid marks on the bath mat, gives Greta a high-five and says, "all right!" The turd is flushed, the hands are washed, the bath mat is washed, and all's well. Multiply that experience by all the bowel movements for the rest of her life and you can maybe understand our joy.

Story out of the way, a nice Easter portrait of the girl who can now poop on a plastic toilet.

He has risen

Happy Easter, everyone! At 2 years old, Greta already associates the resurrection with chocolate. Good for her, I say. Her Mommy is at church as I type this, but as you can see from the devilish grin, Greta wasn't having any of that. So her atheist Dad stayed home with her. At the moment, she's trying to convince herself it's worth taking a nap in the pack and play. She's started to fuss, which usually means in 5 minutes or so she'll be in the land of nod.

Here are a couple more photos from our morning celebration. A very yummy breakfast from our foodie friends (scrambled egss, blueberry pancakes, vegetarian sausage patties, fresh fruit and yogurt) and then an hour of watching Greta discover the joys inside her basket. Her very forward-thinking Mommy mailed ahead a slew of goodies that she assembled last night.

Saturday in Portsmouth

We got here around 1130 after an uneventful flight. Greta was an angel for the first hour; reading books, staring out the window, playing peek-a-boo with the little girl in the seat in front of her. For the final 10 minutes she turned into a squirming worm, standing, sitting, flopping from my lap to Mommy's. Anywho, went to a downtown brew pub for lunch, where Greta eschwed her fish and chips for the tartar sauce. Used the french fries as dipping spoons and licked off the sauce. Had some bread, too. She skipped her nap, favoring instead a visit to the playground and a downtown stroll, where Mommy bought her some sort of bubble machine. Mommy just finished putting together Greta's Easter basket and we're about to sit down for dinner. Greta's sleeping on a travel bed donated by Bill & Christina Rodgers, fellow Middlebury alums. So far, so good, but she was REALLY tired, so ask me again in a few hours. She can easily roll out of the bed, but it's pretty big, so it might be her first full night in something resembling a "big girl bed." Enough talk -- some photos from day one.

Old friends

We had a nice visit tonight from Cathy & Matthew McSwain, old friends from our first Air Force assignment in Cheyenne. Cathy was a JAG with Carey and is now a reservist and mom to a 5 and 7-year-old. Matthew flies helicopters for the Air Force. Greta enjoyed playing with the "big kids" and they indulged her. Of course we couldn't get any of them to look at the camera at the same time, much less smile, but these two photos aren't bad.

We're off to visit Aaron & Amy in Portsmouth, N.H., tomorrow and will post some photos from there. I can't get enough of Aaron's MacBook.

The girl's got no hips

I'm a man, so what do I know, but it seems to me that having no hips is something Greta will someday take pride in. But now, nigh on 2 years old, it's really just an annoyance for her parents. Every pair of 18-24 months pants slips right off her waist. We've taken to pinching them with safety pins, but we often forget, as in this picture. Last weekend Greta was having a grand time at the playground, running around and chasing all the other kids, when her pants suddenly fell down to her ankles, stopping her in her tracks. She just looked up at me, like, "Hey, fix this problem, would ya?

Finally, video?

OK, thanks to a woman who is blogging about her pregnancy in a blog titled "Baby Manship," I think I've solved the video riddle. She shared her experience on a Blogger Help message board. Turns out when you upload videos to YouTube, you have to select whether the videos are "Private" or "Public." I selected "Private" initially, thinking that the setting would remove the video from YouTube search. Well, turns out it doesn't work like that. Uploaded videos MUST be public for others to see them, unless you e-mail folks the link directly, via YouTube. Note: Either click the play button in the middle TWICE or use the play button in the lower left corner.

So, without further ado, Greta's YouTube debut. More promising videos to follow, I promise.

Fun with Sadie & Immy

Just a couple quick pix from our dinner last night with the Bengs. Greta and Sadie (the older daughter) are becoming fast friends. All the girls had a great time in the backyard and in the bath after dinner. We'll sure miss them when the Air Force moves them to Colorado Springs in a couple months!

Cherry blossoms

We drove the long way home after my soccer game this morning (a 5-0 victory, by the way, with yours truly scoring on a penalty kick!) so we could see Washington's annual rite of U.S./Japanese relations -- the Cherry Blossom Festival. There was no way we were getting out of the car and joining the hordes though, so this was Greta's view.


Mommy did get one decent shot when we were stopped at a traffic light. Gotta love that 10x zoom.