I think I first noticed it when we were  brushing her teeth. It had to be a year ago or more. We were facing the mirror and I reached around her face to help get those back baby teeth. Her little fist grasped the handle to mimic my back and forth movements. That’s when she got frustrated like toddlers do.

She switched the brush to her left hand and continued brushing.

Now, I had seen her use both hands while eating and coloring, but it was the frustration mimicking my right-handed movements that made me realize for the first time that we are right-handed parents possibly raising a left-handed child.

I understand she’s only 2 1/2 and could show ambidextrous qualities until age 5 or 6, but she really seems to favor her left. If she is left-handed she will be following after her Papa, my father-in-law, her grandfather. I personally think it’s really awesome. The lefties I know are really smart. I don’t know if they are any smarter than right-handed people, but there are studies showing that their brains do work differently.

Lately I’ve been asking left-handed friends and coworkers, “Hey, when did your parents notice you were left-handed? How old were you? They usually shrug and say something like, “I don’t know. I’d have to ask my mom.” I think it’s moms who recognize this stuff and start researching whether Ned Flander’s Leftorium really exists so they can get proper supplies for their little southpaws.

My only concern is being able to help her learn to write and do other fine motor tasks. I’ve found if I turn her to face me while brushing her teeth, I can use my right hand effectively and she can then mirror me with her left hand. Any opposite-handed parents have tips for raising a child using the other hand? When did your child show left or right-handedness?

I write this today because it’s International Left-Handers Day! Let’s hear it for little lefties and the parents raising them!

There is only one explanation for the jerking and failing that is going on in my womb on a daily basis. These kicks feel different from my first baby. Seriously. I’m concerned about this kid’s dance moves.

I think I’m carrying a mini Elaine Benes. 

“It’s like a full body dry heave, set to music.”

-George Costanza

Maybe it’s  because it’s Shark Week. Maybe it’s because of that scary story that came out this week about Usher’s son. But, water safety has been on my mind this week. We have decided we officially have a water baby. I swear our child is part fish. She LOVES being in the pool. She loves summer and our little daredevil is happy to push away from us as she learns to jump off the side of the pool into our cautiously open arms. I in no way want to squash this enthusiasm. I love the fact that my 2 1/2 year-old  loves kicking, blowing bubbles and dunking her whole head in the water. I remember to my younger sister wailing during swim lessons at the pool because she didn’t want to get her face wet. I was far from a super swimmer myself, even though I was on the swim team for a few years.

As my daughter grins and giggles, inside I am reeling with anxiety that she will go under and we will not be able to get to her. I have horrible flashbacks to my early days of motherhood with Postpartum Depression when I was forever worried that she would drown in a pool, the ocean 2 hours away, lakes 20 miles away, the bath, a puddle or a heavy rain. I often let my husband take the lead on swimming in the big pool. I usually relax after a little while and we have a great time. The pool we joined rocks and we always have fun with neighborhood events on Friday nights.

It seems to be a trend that every toddler wears a Puddle Jumper. Have you heard of these? They’re like an arm floatie/life jacket hybrid. I felt like a sorry excuse for a suburban pool mom for not having my kid stuffed in one of these.  I held off on buying any type of floatation device because I heard it stunts their swimming progress or whatever. I’ve also heard “No! You can’t buy those because then they might not know when they aren’t wearing one and jump in and sink!” Huh? I mean, I think she’s going to know when she’s wearing one.  We don’t own a pool because of my anxiety. (Okay, right. We don’t own a pool because that shit is expensive and we would never clean it.) I feel like that’s a problem for pool owners. She’s never going to wander into our backyard pool and sink, nor will she ever be at the neighborhood pool by herself.

I bought a life jacket anyway.  Why?  Because it made me feel more secure. It reduced my mama anxiety, which made it worth every penny of $24.95. I didn’t get a Puddle Jumper because we tried arm floaties and she hated having something on her arms. I went with a Speedo life jacket for toddlers. She calls it her “puffy vest.” We had a very serious conversation about how she can float above the water with her puffy vest on and how she needs to always hold on to Mama and Daddy when she doesn’t have it on. I think she has a pretty good grasp of this concept and it has made pool time much better for me.

What do you do to ensure water safety with your little one? What do you think of my life jacket decision?  Any thoughts?  Did I do the right thing?

Alright, let’s get through Shark Week with no water injuries, shall we?

32 seems like one of those birthdays where it’s just a birthday, you know? It’s not 30. It’s not 35 when you can run for president. It’s not 33, which I’ve always considered significant because that’s how old Jesus was when he died and that’s when my Mom said her metabolism slowed down. Damn. One more year. I better go get  a snack now.

Breakfast the morning of my birthday!

But, when I turned 32 on Saturday I did think of it as significant. 32 is the age I’ll be when I become a mother for the second time. That’s pretty awesome. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 32.

“32”, my silly, incomplete and half-assed version of Taylor Swift’s “22”

It feels like a perfect night to dress up like preppies

And make a run to Target, uh uh, uh uh.

It feels like a perfect night for feedings at midnight

To fall in love with babies, uh uh, uh.

Yeah

We’re happy, sad, messy and busy at the same time

It’s miserable and magical.

Oh, yeah

Tonight’s the night when we forget about the deadlines.

Its time.

Uh oh!

I don’t know about you

But I’m feeling 32

Everything will be alright

If you keep me next to you.

You don’t know about me

But I’ll bet you want to

Everything will be alright

If we just keep living like we’re

32, ooh-ooh
32, ooh-ooh

It seems like one of those days,

This playdate’s too crowded.

Too many brat kids, uh uh, uh uh

It seems like one of those days,

We ditch the diaper and end up training

Instead of wiping.

This morning Greyson was quizzing Charlotte on her Sesame Street stuffed animals.  He would ask, “Which Sesame Street friend is orange?” She would reply, “Ernie!”  He would ask, “Who has a beak?” “Who lives in a trashcan?” and so on.

He asked “Who has a friend named Blogg?” For the uninformed, Abby Cadabby has a segment called Abby’s Flying Fairy School with a character named Blogg.

Charlotte said, “Mama! Mama has a friend named blog!” We stared at her in amazement. Somehow my 2 1/2 year-old is aware of my little online diary of our lives.

Sadly, it has been neglected in recent weeks and I’ve been posting less. This is mostly because I’ve just been insanely busy working. When I’m not working I’m enjoying myself  and not writing as much. Granted, my Twitter  and Instagram are extensions of this space and always hopping! You can find me there or on my Facebook page. I promise to be a better friend to my friend blog. We’ll be in touch soon! Promise.

Image from muppet.wikia.com and copyright of Sesame Workshop. (Blogg is the purple guy in the center.)