Cuteness to Share and a Goodbye to Montana

1. In the last week my son has started to refer to us as Mommy and Daddy instead of Mama and Dada
2. When he wants to be held he says, "Mama hold you."
3. Yesterday we went  on a hike which required crawling through our neighbors fence. As usual, MLO had a stick in his hand (a rather long one) and I asked him if he wanted me to hold it while he went through the fence. He answered, "No, MLO do." Obviously he didn't say MLO, he said his name but lets not nit pick. It was so darned cute that he made it clear that he wanted to do it himself. I thought that was rather groundbreaking.
4. He has taken to spinning in circles and has succeeded in leaving the ground when he jumps.


All of these milestones, large and small have occurred while we have spent a heavenly three months in one of the most breathtaking places in this country. Today we say goodbye to the Swan Range, its river and its lake. We say goodbye to all of the remarkably kind and welcoming people of the valley. We have made friends and fallen in love with the rugged, raw beauty of the place. It will break our hearts to leave both. But winter is coming and the sheet of ice on the pond serves to warn us of the long, cold, dark that creeps ever closer. We leave for milder weather, the sharp smell of the wind blowing off of the ocean, we leave for ag land by the sea. We return to our families, who have missed us and who we have missed. We return to babies being born, a new chapter in our lives and the holidays with all the joyous family fun they bring. We are sad to leave, and hold the promise in our hearts of escaping back next year to our Montana paradise. We happily return, eager to have our families close and to celebrate the lovely coast that is our home.

Steinbeck, a man of my home town and a figurehead from my youth said it best, “I’m in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection. But with Montana it is love. And it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it.”
Travels with Charley: In Search of America 

A Shameless, and Unsolicited, Plug for Skype

Parents, if you have loved ones far away you know how difficult it is to make time for them to bond with your little one. Let's face it, a phone call doesn't convey all of the love a person wants to express to a baby or toddler. Babies have only so much patience for something like a phone, with its tempting buttons. Besides, linking a face to a voice helps a little one put all that love into context.

When we moved to Montana we knew that we weren't going to see either set of grandparents for a couple of months. That's when Hubby and I decided to download Skype. I will never go back to simple phone conversations with my parents. Heck, Skype's more fun for me to engage in, let alone for MLO. Even if the novelty of sitting in front of the computer and seeing/playing with Nana and Papa has expired, I can still train the camera on the little mister while he runs around and plays. This allows me to get a chance to talk with family while they get a chance to see MLO in action.

I strongly recommend downloading Skype. It's free, it's easy and it's a lifesaver when it comes to keeping your little ones connected to family far away!

19 Months and a Bucket Full of Toys

Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin by saying that I had no idea what to pack for MLO's adventure in the wilds of Montana. I brought every bit of clothing that fit and would seem to fit three months from our move out there and of course all of his toiletries and medical supplies. When it came to toys and books, I was lost. The problem was that he just has too many. Hubby and I have purchased maybe two toys for the kid, but aunts, uncles, grandparents and friends have utterly showered MLO. We had limited space, so I had to chose the toys and books wisely.


First, I concentrated on the books. MLO had just started to develop his obsession with heavy machinery, so I scoured used book stores, Ross and Marshall's for inexpensive books that would feed his love of trucks and the outdoors. He spent the months subsequent to his birthday pouring over his new birthday books, so he had somewhat lost interest in the books we had. I kept the newly purchased, "Montana" books hidden to maintain the novelty and ended up bringing about five each of new and old books. While he's been here he's received four more new books.

With regard to the toys, I made efforts to bring things that had versatility and appealed to his more recent phases. For instance, he just started to take a fancy to pulling things behind him as he walked, so I packed my old toy rotary phone with the eyes that move. I grabbed all the legos we had inherited from my folks, which included some with wheels which are his faves. I brought his 'Learn to-Dress Jake' and his much beloved stuffed horsey. For the car I packed a few small toys that zipped, clinked and contained other toys, my favorite being his Wolfy. He loves zipping the pocket and playing with all the characters. It's a life saver for the car. Overall we had about an 18 gallon bin full of toys.

Now that we've had a couple of months here, I more clearly see what his favorites are. He plays with all of his toys, but his newly acquired Tonka dump truck is his favorite outdoor toy. In the house he loves to play with his soft-ball and with a wind up dump truck we scored for $3 at WalMart. The Wheely Cow has saved us... see the review on the Stuff N' Clutter page. The books were also critical. He spends minutes straight (hey, for a toddler that's a long time!) going through the pages of all of his books.

Of course, nothing beats a stick, some pine-cones, rocks and the great-outdoors, but when it's time to go inside it's nice to have a few things other than the furniture to play with.

Inappropriate, Hillarious, Adorable: Things my Toddler Says

MLO pronounces truck, "Cock." That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my son exclaimed in an intimate restaurant during the lunchtime rush, "Cock! Big big Cock!" as he pointed out the window. It was awesome.

He pronounces "Silly" without the 'l' sound and everything is silly: Mama, Dada, the dogs Snoopy (who he calls "Sissy") and Ricky (who he calls "Wicky"), Grandma and Grandpa and the rain ("Wainy").

He loves to throw rocks in the water.  Suddenly during a meal he will exclaim, "Rocks! Water! Throw!" and make a huge splashing sound while throwing his hands into the air, all while making the most serious of faces.

He loves hiking and will pick up a stick, start to use it as a hiking stick then point down our dirt road and ask, "Hike?"

He refers to toast as "Pope." This makes breakfast a particularly holy experience for all of us.

He has started to refer to things in the plural, and when he does so he puts a long pause between the word and the 's' sound, for example, "Gape-eh-sss" for grapes.

He sings along to songs. We have our own version of "The Wheels on the Bus" and he acts out all the parts and sometimes finish lines when I sing certain songs. He can actually carry a tune incredibly well. He must get that from his grandma....

He will go to the stereo system in the dining room (even though he isn't allowed anywhere near it) and ask "Dance?" That's my queue to turn on Pandora so that we can rock out to Simon and Garfunkle or MGMT.

My son recently received a Melissa & Doug animal puzzle that he adores, although doesn't quite know what to do with. Whenever he sees it, he gleefully and affectionately exclaims, "Aminews!"

Though he hasn't purposefully achieved airborne status, he loves to "jump". Usually this means squatting down really low, then lifting one foot really high off the ground while shouting, "Gee-ump!"

When he falls down he announces his sudden contact with the earth in the following ways:

1. "Oh boom."
2.  An emphatic, "Oh no!" (complete with upturned hands in the air)
3.  "Bonk." (accompanied by a hand to whatever part of his body is "injured")

...and counting

MLO has begun to count to three. He will even count his fingers, "One two three, one two three...." over and over. I can't get over that he knows the cue, "Can you count them?" and appropriately follows up with numbers. We started to play a game when he was 18 months old called, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, no fingers, boom!" where I would show him my hand full of fingers, count down, and when we got to no fingers I would shout , "No fingers... Boom!" and give him a gentle punch. He loves it, and it's an easy way to entertain him in a restaurant while we wait for food. Ever since that became a favorite game, he got interested in counting the trees or houses in books. Of course, we clap and encourage his efforts, so he thinks this counting business is the bee's knees. I've lost touch with any books that indicate when certain milestones ought to be achieved, and we've been gone through his 18 month check-up, so I really have no idea what he's supposed to be doing developmentally. I don't worry too much about it, and it lets me think that he's the bee's knees for counting, so I think I'll go with it!

Wildlife Adventures in Montana

Described herein are two of the most dramatic wildlife experiences we have had as a family, so far.

I mentioned in my come-back post, "Oh, What?" that there had been an incident with a bat in the washing machine. To give some background, we moved to a relatively remote part of Montana in August. About two weeks after we arrived, I was doing some laundry. We had experienced our first real trial of back woods living when our septic system backed up and proceeded to leak black water from the bottom of our toilet. My husband soaked up the water with some towels and once we had the problem fixed I ran a load of wash that included said nasty towels and a rug that had previously sat directly around the toilet. The rug had been thrown over a bucket in the laundry room once we figured out what it had been soaking up, to be washed with the rest of the poo-water-soaked towels when the time came. As one might expect, I washed those suckers on hot for the longest time the washer allowed. Even though the days and nights were plenty hot to hang the washing out to dry, I wanted the added security of a hot dry cycle to kill any possible remaining poo-bugs. As I loaded the drier, I noticed a rather large and soggy piece of lint at the bottom of the washer. I thought to myself, "That's odd, I didn't wash anything that was that dark." As I picked up the lint I noticed that it was particularly felty feeling, not at all like the old rough towels and synthetic rug I had washed. Suddenly the shape and the texture came together in my mind: bat- wet, soggy, bat. I threw the drowned, ragged, lifeless body of the creature on the ground and shuddered heartily. I walked out into the kitchen and said to my husband, "I need you to go in there and tell me whether that's a bat on the ground."

Shocked and utterly confused, he walked in and confirmed what I already knew: I had inadvertently killed a poor bat in really a horrific way, then desecrated its body by throwing it with gusto to the ground. As close as we can figure it, the little fella climbed in the open washer sometime in the night and had gone to sleep. In the morning chill he was not able to register that I was throwing things into the washer and so didn't fly out. The other possibility was that it had gotten into the rug-covered bucket and was hanging from the rug when I picked it up and threw it into the washer. Either way, the poor little guy met a terrible end, for which I will feel
eternally sorry. As my sister said, "Peace be to that poor bat...." In homage, I briefly considered the following Halloween costume for MLO. Props to Pottery Barn for the adorable costume, but man, that kid sells it!


It's Fall, and here in our lovely valley the Birch and Cottonwood leaves are changing, the weather has cooled way down, and the fish have all left our pond for deeper waters. All the wildlife of our region are doing their best to put on some pounds before they bed down for winter. The berry crop was abysmal this year, and the glut of rain in the spring left the grass more tough than nutritious, so the entire food chain is feeling the effects of limited food. With that comes the inevitable attempt by our bigger and bolder predators to take advantage of the easy food supply that accompanies human settlement. Just a few weeks ago we had a 600 lb, 20 year old grizzly bear break into our closest neighbor's garage. Suffice it to say, Hubby and I are a bit on edge. Taking on a hungry animal 5 times your size, and likely willing to settle for eating you, is no small charge.

Tracks from the huge-mongous bear that broke into our neighbor's garage

With the scene set let me explain our latest big adventure with Montana wildlife. Hubby and I were enjoying the last warm fall day forecasted for as far as anyone could tell. I sat, unarmed, in our expansive yard while Hubby unsuccessfully fished our empty pond, which we share with our nearest neighbor. Yes folks, this is the same neighbor whose garage had been ripped into by a gi-normous grizzly bear. As he was fishing he noticed some movement near the neighbor's house and looked up to find a very brown bear standing on its hind legs, both front paws on the window. The hubster began to yell and the bear looked over, then proceeded to ignore him completely. Hubby yelled for me to take the dogs in and get his firearms ready.

My brave, madman of a husband went over to the neighbor and did his darndist to scare off this bear. No charging car, honking horn, or gun-shots seemed to drive the animal away. Only when Hubby fired buck-shot at the ground near its feet did the animal flee. Hubby came back and immediately called the grizzly guy, with whom we had come to be on a first name basis. As he hung up the phone, the hubster looked out the window and exclaimed, "Holy sh*t, the effing bear is in our yard!!" He had crossed the pond and now stood somewhat bemused in our front yard area. Now within 20 feet or so we could see that it was a little black bear, that couldn't have weighed more than 120 lbs. Hubby tried to scare him off with bear spray (the can of which we had not used before and found out in this instance that it was frighteningly sub-par), pots and pans and yelling. To no avail! The beast merely ran up a nearby pine tree bordering the pond. Finally we waited for the bear to move in a direction that would allow us to chase him off, and move he did. He ambled casually to within 10 feet of our window, near which MLO was enjoying a mid-afternoon snack. As I picked up my son he pointed out the window and said happily, "Doggie! Nice, nice doggie. Give pets." That was not the reaction I was looking for, regardless of how adorable this little bear was.  

Hubby was finally able to get close enough (yes, close enough) to spray the bear in the face, which should impart on the bear a healthy fear for people. We found out that this little fella had been orphaned as a cub, raised in captivity, and recently released in our area. The bear was only about a year and a half, and his upbringing explained the alarming disregard he had for people-threats. We learned that a bear does sh*t in the woods (I have footage of it), that black bears can look very, very brown, and that MLO is an unreliable detector of potentially threatening animals in the wild, not to be relied upon when hiking. 

Our little black bear friend in our front yard

The baby who wouldn't kiss

Ever since MLO began to express his personality he has had a way of attracting an entire room's attention and sending the mood of the place into joyful wonder. He's always been beautiful, funny, easy to love and shamelessly flirtatious. However, while other babies his age would hug and kiss and express love in myriad other ways, MLO generally kept his affection to himself. For instance, after he learned to walk he would now and again run over to me, wrap his arms around my legs and say "Hiiiiii Mama." Then, as quickly as he appeared, he would scamper off to wreak havoc on some toy or clean corner of the house. That was it. No kisses, few hugs. As adoring and utterly devoted parents, Hubby and I would shower hugs and kisses and "I love you"s on the child with abandon, so we didn't really understand why MLO didn't seem to reciprocate. To clarify, neither of us doubted that he loved us and that he knew he was loved, we just didn't understand why he didn't express it in ways other kids his age did.   

My favorite example of this is as follows: One morning, when MLO was around 15 months old and had just awakened from his nap, I walked into his room. The picture of happiness, he smiled broadly from above the rails of his crib and exclaimed, "Hiiiii Mama!"  I went over and gave him a big kiss and a squeeze, and as our routine dictated, proceeded to play a game of hide and seek while he remained in bed. We both laughed and smiled and when I went to lift him from the crib I asked for a kiss. "Kiss for mommy?", I said, and leaned my cheek in toward his face. He took his little hands, one on each side of my face, and turned my face around to look him in the eyes. He then turned his cheek to face me, and pulled my face toward his cheek, so that I may kiss him. Yes, my son in effect said, "You may have the profound privilege of kissing me. That's as much affection as your gonna get, lady."

It was some months later that MLO finally started to give hugs and kisses. At first his kisses were fully opened mouth affairs, with plenty of drool. He finally got that he should purse his lips a bit. He still only very rarely volunteers a kiss, though he generously doles out hugs. His favorite times to hug are when he is sitting in his highchair or laying on the changing table. I'm fairly certain he uses the imploring request "Hug!" on the changing table as a distraction mechanism, since he seems to hate having his diaper changed. He has also picked up the habit of saying lovingly, "Ooooh, Mama!" and "Ooooh Dada!" when he finds us particularly funny or sweet. He has even started saying "Silly Dada!" (or Mama) and pronounces "Silly" without the 'l' sound. So yeah, my baby that wouldn't kiss is now the toddler that loves to hug. I'll take it!