Little Steps

It seems that little bit about kids eating better around other kids because they like to mimic extends to playing at the beach as well.

On Father's Day weekend when we took Autumn to the beach, she sat in her chair the entire time. She screamed when we took her into the water and only liked the water we brought to her in a bucket. Of course, she also apparently wasn't feeling well because that was the night she got sick in our car.

This weekend, our friends C and G and their two boys, A and G, joined us in Marblehead, Ohio. While the men went to act like Men and go fishing on Saturday morning, C and I took the boys and Autumn to the beach. As she watched A and G run around (especially G, who is 3), Autumn decided the beach was fun, too. She still wasn't 100 percent positive that the water was fun, but she liked it when I dipped her bottom in after I counted to three. Of course, I was dipped as well.

The three kids (A is a few months younger than Autumn) all played very well together. And none of them had any crying fits, so that was a bonus. Sometimes they even shared with one another, which was a pleasant surprise. Maybe that mimic thing leads to mimicing good behavior.

All I know is that when I took Autumn to Presque Isle briefly this morning, she couldn't wait to run down to the water's edge. The only bad thing as that we went to the beach in front of Presque Isle lighthouse (because it's never crowded). I didn't even want to dip her knees in the water because there was a ton of algae there. Maybe the guarded beaches where swimming is allowed have less algae. Perhaps we'll see tomorrow.

Despite our best efforts, working mothers often don't feel like there's a perfect balance between work and family. Every time I see some article or receive some e-mail about this topic, I look at it. I never find a perfect solution.

Yesterday I received my BabyZone newsletter by e-mail. Among other things in there was a link to articles for working parents. If you want to read it, click here.

I don't think I would be a good stay-at-home mom. I'd get too lonely, which is odd being that I'd be around a small person all day long. But I'd start to think too much, which would then cause me to overreact about some normal part of my life. Besides, I like to have the extra adult interaction. I like to have something else to which I can contribute.

But then I wish there was more time I could spend with my daughter. Especially now that she's getting bigger and doing more things. As an infant, she was cute and cuddly. As a toddler, her personality is coming out more and more. She says more words, discovers consonants she previously skipped (our new one: boa-tah, previously just bo). She's fascinating to me at this stage of life. I watch her discover how to climb up on the dining room chairs. I watch her learn to spin the DVD holder. I watch her as she decides whether to say yes or no to a question I ask.

I know she's doing these things at "school" and I'm not seeing it. I have to wait to see it later at home. And I know she has a ton of fun at school and she loves spending the day with her little friends and her teachers.

I think my wish to spend more time with her is more for me than for her. Maybe it's because I realize this time is flying by me and I can't keep up. I'm going to blink my eyes and she'll be in kindergarten. I'll go to sleep tonight and tomorrow she'll be graduating from high school. And it will be gone, just like that.

No matter how much I read, I don't think I'll ever see how to find the perfect balance or how to get rid of that mother's guilt. It'll always be there, no matter what I do. If I didn't work, I'd wonder if I deprived her of social interaction or if I wasn't teaching her enough or getting her out of the house enough. Since I work, I wonder if I'm not giving Autumn enough time. Neither way will be perfect, I guess. But what's perfect anymore anyway?

Holidays like Christmas, Easter and Halloween are tailor-made for children. Santa, egg hunts and trick-or-treating often make these days fun for kids and therefore are fun for adults because they get to watch the kids get excited.

At least, that's what happens most of the time.

This past Christmas Autumn was sick. She couldn't have been less interested in anything other than cuddling and sleeping. For Easter, the only way we could get her to pick up anything was to tell her to clean up. And she was too young for the other holidays that came before that.

And yesterday, for her second Fourth of July, the holiday was pretty much nonexistent. She did get to stay home with Mommy in the morning and to ride around Presque Isle's multipurpose trail in the afternoon with both Mommy and Daddy. But all the hoopla and celebrations elsewhere in the county, including the fireworks, didn't even exist for her. Since she goes to bed at 8 p.m., the 10 p.m. firework shows are way too late, especially since she still has to wake up early in the morning. I don't know when she'll get that first look at the bright colors filling the sky or cover her ears because of the loud booms resounding with each pretty display.

I do know I was just thinking last night I wouldn't see any fireworks this year when I saw a few through my kitchen window. Then I saw so many more on television watching the "Boston Pops Fireworks Spectacular." Humor me for a minute as I get sidetracked and tell you that Steven Tyler could not have looked worse as Aerosmith performed along with the Boston Pops for a few songs. The Boston Herald says he looked "bronzed and healthy," but his hair, his clothes and just his overall appearance looked awful. And his voice has been better -- but coming off surgery that required total vocal rest can excuse that. But, hey, the fireworks were awesome, even if they were just on TV.

Now that the Fourth is done, I'm looking ahead to Halloween. Hopefully we'll have a little girl excited about her costume and ready to go to ZooBoo and, perhaps, trick-or-treating. I'm just waiting for that holiday where her eyes sparkle and she gets so excited she's practically jumping up and down. I'm waiting for that holiday that takes me back to the excitement of my childhood. The one where I could hardly sleep I was so excited.

Soon... it will come soon...

My daughter has the worst case of diaper rash right now. I was thinking it was some little pasta I gave her the other night that had a bit of garlic powder mixed in, but now I'm not so sure. Otherwise, her diet didn't include anything abnormal. The only other thing that was different was some time spent in Little Swimmers for a few days in a row. Perhaps they helped hold water near her butt more than a diaper typically does. I don't know.

I've been slathering on the Balmex, and so have her teachers at "school." I wanted to get her a really good soak in the tub, but as you may recall, she's only been standing in the tub for a few weeks now. If we tried to make her sit, she'd scream. She's enjoyed the bath crayons, but they didn't make her want to sit.

Last night, in an act of desperation, I opened a new toy I bought last week to have around in case I needed it. The toy, Tomy's Preschool Bath Toy Water Symphony, is a group of colored dolphins who can sit in little inner tubes. The tubes can hook together so you have your dolphins in a nice little circle. It says if you tap the dolphins on the head, you'll hear a note. I found it worked better if I picked the dolphin up and placed its tail in the water. Each dolphin makes a different note on an eight-note scale.

Autumn loved it. She started imitating the dolphins by making a high-pitched noise herself. She'd dunk the dolphins under water (in which case they wouldn't make a note, but would make bubbles and fill up with water.) She sat on her knees the whole time and when she did go to stand, I told her she had to sit or Mommy would put the dolphins away. So she sat back down. Yippee!

The best part about this toy is that no batteries are required. The notes play just because of the way the little dolphins are designed. I bought ours at Toys R Us for less than $13, so it's not a bad deal.

Autumn stayed, sitting, in the tub for a half hour. It probably would have been longer, but she then pooped a little. Needless to say, at that moment the fun was done.

It used to be I could enter my bathroom in peace. Whether I had to use the toilet, take a shower or brush my teeth, I'd have a little bit of privacy. Now, I can't do anything alone.

Brushing my hair is one thing. After all, it's pretty cute when she grabs a comb or brush and imitates me. But sitting on the toilet is another thing entirely.

If I go to the bathroom when Keith is home, I shut the door. But Autumn will stand outside, lean on the door and occasionally holler until I'm done. If Keith is not home, I leave the door open. Autumn runs in after me and hands me the toilet paper as soon as I sit. She's been doing this for a while. But now she's learned the word "potty," so she says potty the whole time and then proceeds to tap her hand on my upper thigh, quite near my butt. One time she tried to shove me off the potty, because she wanted to put her potty seat on the toilet. (But she doesn't want to sit on her potty seat... she just wants to place it on the toilet.) All I have to say is that it's a good thing I'm not gun-shy when someone's in the room. If I was, I'd never be able to empty my bladder because I'm rarely alone anymore.

As if this wasn't enough, when I shower in the morning, I see the corner of the shower curtain peel back. Then a little face watches me the whole time. If some water gets on the edge of the tub, she'll smear it around with her hands. When I'm done and I slide the curtain back, she'll hand me my towel or bathrobe. I do appreciate that, but does she really need to watch me the whole time I'm showering? Can't she go eat Cheerios with Daddy?

For now, it's OK. Because fortunately she's cute and she's little and, most importantly, she doesn't announce embarrassing things about my body or its functions in public places yet. If the day comes that she announces to a store clerk what Mommy did in the potty that morning, I might have to re-examine the whole issue.

In today's Erie Times-News I read "Laws regulate rights of unborn," which tells of states with laws protecting the fetus. It mentions Arkansas, where lawmakers are looking at making it a crime for a pregnant woman to smoke; Alabama, where prosecutors can charge anyone who attacks a pregnant woman and harms her fetus; and Utah, where a woman is serving probation for child endangerment after refusing to undergo a Caesarean section to save her twins, one of whom died. In Wisconsin and South Dakota, authorities can haul pregnant women into custody for abusing alcohol or drugs.

Lynne M. Paltrow of the National Advocates for Pregnant Women says the rights of reguses are starting to come first and the rights of women are coming last. I don't necessarily agree.

I see where this can be a sticky situation. But except in a case of rape, I can't see how pregnancy is anything but a choice. With pills and patches available with prescriptions and condoms sold at drug and grocery stores (and let's not forget the old stand-by, abstinence), there's no good reason for anyone to be pregnant who doesn't want to be. In the sense of being all-inclusive about this, let's include morning-after pills and abortions, too.

Using all this as logic, a woman in her second or third trimester should be willing, if not happy, to be pregnant. You would think that such a woman would be willing to follow the doctor's or midwife's orders. Wouldn't you want what's best for the child?

The Surgeon General offers tips for mothers and mothers-to-be at this site. Their tips include avoiding alcohol, not smoking, eating healthy, using the proper car seat, getting prenatal care and having your child immunized. These, along with most of the circumstances mentioned in the newspaper article (with the exception of the Caesarean section woman), do not cause harm to the mother. And not following them CAN cause harm to the baby.

No matter whether you believe life begins at conception, when the embryo becomes a fetus or at birth, you cannot argue with the fact that the child's quality of life may very well depend on choices the mother-to-be makes during pregnancy. Birth weight, brain development, development of the spine -- these all can be affected by the pregnant mom.

I can't say I think it's a bad thing some states are making these laws. Women have a lifetime to have a glass of wine with dinner and during that lifetime it only takes nine months to form a new life. Don't we owe it to the children we choose to bring into this world to give them the best possible outcome? Can't we pass on having a cigarette or drink. We can't control down syndrome or autism, but we can control things such as fetal alcohol syndrome or, God forbid, crack babies. Life is tough enough to figure out without starting with two strikes against you.

There's no harm in giving the baby-to-be nine months of mom living a healthy lifestyle. And in the end, it might just be good for mom, too.

Sunday was our company picnic at Waldameer Park. I think the last time I was at Waldameer was more than 10 years ago when my father had his company picnics there. While so much of the park is the same, there's some things that are different, too. However, most of the different things are geared toward older kids or adults.

After our lunch, we headed straight for the water park. My last visits to Waldameer were filled with time on the lazy river or riding innertubes down some of the water slides. This time we headed straight for the little kid area where the water is knee-high on a 20-month-old child.

Autumn wasn't sure at first, but when we started playing with her, dipping her toes in the water and splashing a little water with our own hands, she warmed up pretty quickly. Soon she was splashing herself, walking a few steps out on her own and even bending down on her knees. It was so cute to watch her get brave and to watch her play.

After the water park, we took her over by the kid rides. I asked her if she wanted to drive a car, but she fussed. We walked around a bit and then we saw the boats. When I told her before we left that we were going to play in water she said, "Water. Boa-tah." So, we tried the boat ride, which she loved! She was holding one steering wheel in each hand, riding around with a smile on her face. Then when the ride ended, she cried because she didn't want off. There were quite a few kids in the same situation.

I thought she'd be able to ride again right away since the lines were short. But the operator shut the boats down for a bit so she could go run the airplane ride. No more boats for a while, which stunk. She rode the little horses/carts around once. She rode the cars. But none seemed to be as much fun as the boats. They were running again before we left, but at 6 p.m. it was getting to be dinner again and we needed to head home.

A coworker of mine said she and her husband have sometimes stopped by and just bought a small package of tickets. With each of the kiddie rides only one ticket each, their young daughter would get quite a few rides in on a given evening. The best part is that there's no admission to the park part, so Mom and Dad can go for free to watch the child ride and ride. The park stays open Tuesday through Sunday until 10 p.m.

We might be back this year and try this ticket package. If not, you can be sure we'll be back next year to see Autumn even more excited than she was this year. I'm looking forward to it.

Saturday evening we went to the Panegyri Greek festival, an event known to attract more than 35,000 people each year. Since it lasts only three days, you can guess that around 10,000 people were there at some point on Saturday.

As we maneuvered through crowds of people, I thought how glad I was that we brought the umbrella stroller. It's smaller and therefore easier to steer in between all those legs without ramming into somebody's heels. As I squeezed through a small gap, one man asked me if I could make it through. I said yes and he said, "Imagine what it looks like to her."

Can you even think about what that looks like? Just legs. Bare legs from the thigh on down because it's summer. She couldn't see faces, sky or any open space whatsoever. Just bare legs. How creepy. I think I would cry if that was all I could see. Autumn's calm exterior makes me think that she's either braver than I, or she's so used to that vantage point from stroller rides and from just being 3-feet tall.

The only time I've ever thought about what she could or could not see was at the zoos we've gone to where we took her out of her stroller so she could see over railings and hedges. But I never thought about the other times, like Saturday, where we've put her in a stroller for convenience (and safety).

When I broke my foot and rode wheelchairs or scooters as I shopped in stores, I remember how frustrating it was to not be able to see the higher shelves or to reach items on those shelves. It makes think how frustrating her little toddler life could be. She can't see, can't reach, can't fully communicate everything she wants. And to top it all off, for now when she goes to the bathroom she has to sit in it until an adult changes the diaper. Makes you glad you're not a toddler, doesn't it?

Why does it seem as soon as the baby arrives, people start asking when you'll have the second? For some reason this is not considered a personal question anymore, because any virtual stranger will ask, not just friends and family. And I can just about guarantee that whoever asks will have an opinion about how long you should wait or how many kids you should have, as if they have a right to direct your child production.

Last night I saw my friend P. We've been friends since elementary school, but since she lives in Utah now I only see her once each year. In 2005, her son was younger than Autumn is now and Autumn was 2 months old. Now, her son looks and speaks like a "big boy," Autumn is running around and saying words, and P is pregnant with her second child.

P's children will be three years apart. I've known other people who have had children as young as 16 months old when they had the second and others who have let years, sometimes decades, pass before they gave birth to the second.

I don't know when we'll be ready for a second child. But I do know I want Autumn to understand what's going on. As time continues to pass between her and another child, she might be able to understand why she can't just push the baby aside and climb on to Mommy's or Daddy's lap. She might be more happy than jealous and she could even act as Mommy's little helper.

The time will come. But it's not today or tomorrow. And it most certainly wasn't as soon as I gave birth. When all three of us are ready, then we'll start talking about another child. Until then, we're just going to enjoy our time as a family of three.

For the last few years I've been keeping a list of places where I'd like to travel and have added places where Keith would like to go. For our first wedding anniversary we checked off Hawaii. Next month, for our third, we're going to check off New York City. We're heading there now because Keith, a huge baseball fan, wants to see a game at Yankee Stadium. He's been to Fenway, Wrigley, Tiger Stadium, Comerica Park, Three Rivers, PNC Park, Cleveland Municipal Stadium and Jacob's Field and probably more I can't think of. In a few short years, Yankee Stadium and all its history will be replaced by a nice, new park. So we're heading there before that happens.

Since neither of us has ever been to New York with its millions of people, confusing subway system, people, buildings and people, we didn't feel comfortable taking Autumn with us at this point. So for one whole week she's staying with my parents where she will be given all the love and attention in the world from Grandma and Papa and from the three of my siblings who live nearby.

Up until this point, I've been pretty excited. I've been focusing on the trip instead of the fact that I'll be leaving my little girl for a week. I haven't even left her for a weekend yet, just two individual nights (one of which was when she was just with Daddy).

Unfortunately, I'm a person whose mind can work overtime. The 9/11 attacks of five years ago make the words airplane and New York go together in a not-so-nice way. The supposed plots to wreak havoc on the subway system there don't help. I can't live my life by what might happen, because that wouldn't be much of a life. But I can do what I should do anyway as a responsible parent: I called the lawyer's office today to draw up a will.

I think the reason I haven't done this until now is the awful face-my-own-mortality of a will. Who wants to think about dying or orphaning their child? It's awful. But making sure everything is taken care of, just in case, is best for my child. So now I have to think about who will care for her if something happens to Keith and I. I have to think about our finances -- if we have enough life insurance to pay for necessary expenses or to take care of her in the event one or both of us dies. It's all rather morbid. And it's all rather necessary.

Maybe, after this is done, I can go back to focusing on the fun aspects of the vacation. Soon I'll be thinking about the songs we'll hear, the ballgame we'll see and the striking views of the skyline. And soon we'll see all of it then be back home, safe and sound, giving our little girl a hug and telling her how much we missed her. Soon.

We made plans to go to the Cherry Festival parade with some friends on Saturday. In advance, we figured we could all bring a side dish and purchase a main entree at the festival or somewhere else nearby. So we all headed to North East with coolers, strollers, diaper bags and bags of whatever else we decided we needed.

The parade was great -- with the exception of one thing: the firetrucks. Granted, this was a firefighter's parade, so you expect lots of firetrucks. But you don't expect to have ringing in your ears after. We were sitting on the curb, as many children and parents do, with the trucks driving down the middle of the street, blaring their sirens and honking those loud horns. Each time a siren went off or a horn blew, Autumn screamed equally as loud, despite the fact that I covered her ears. A few times I jumped, too, because the noise was so loud it hurt my ears. And there were tons of firetrucks. As if it wasn't enough to honk the horns and blare the sirens in front of us, some people near us kept shouting at the trucks and at the ambulances (even if they weren't using their sirens) -- "Let's hear some sirens!" or "Is that all the siren you got?" Can these people hear? Really. My child is screaming, my hands are covering her ears and several other children nearby have their ears covered as well. Why must we beg for more ear-piercing noise?

After the parade and our little impromptu picnic, we all headed to the festival to see what rides there were for the kids, especially 3-year-old G. As we got in line for tickets, I went over to see what tickets were required for the kids' ride where the cars ride around in a circle. The answer: three. Three tickets at $1 each to go around in a circle for about a minute. Not worth it. The same ride is one ticket at Waldameer. Ride-a-ramas weren't good when we had only two kids who could pretty much go on two rides and two kids who might not go on any rides. So we talked G out of the rides with a game at the duck pond (for $1) and a promise of big slides at the playground.

A walk to the North East school playground proved to be great fun as all four kids enjoyed the many slides over and over again -- for free. I think they had more fun there and I think all six of us parents had fun, too. We all were acting like kids and before we knew it, 8 p.m. and bedtime had arrived.

Sometimes we think so much about the fancy rides or the festivals, but we so easily forget about the good, old-fashioned playground. I guess it's just another thing where we, as adults, complicate something that doesn't need to be complicated.

Sunday afternoon we were getting ready to head outside for a walk when I noticed something different about a small section of wall in our living room. On the buttercream paint was a whole bunch of orange as if a certain little girl in our house was trying to create a Picasso with her crayon. I have no idea when she did it. I didn't think we left her alone with a crayon and some paper, but evidence indicated otherwise.

After I called Keith in, we both had the same thought -- Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. I grabbed one we had used once before and started on the wall. After a few minutes of elbow grease with the Magic Eraser, I had a decimated eraser, but no more crayon on the wall. Yea! This is quite worth the $1 or so each that these things cost.

I've thought that when the time comes for Autumn to move into a big-girl bed we might paint her room. Right now the walls are a plain white and a fresh coat of paint -- white or colored -- wouldn't hurt. I've seen the paints specifically geared toward kids' rooms. One that I could find with an Internet search was Dutch Boy's Kid's Room paint. Supposedly, it's scrubbable, durable and stain resistant.

I've thought about using the chalkboard paint, but it doesn't come in a nice rainbow of colors, there'd be chalk dust everywhere and I worry that it might encourage her to color on other walls. That would counteract the whole reason for the special paint!

If any of you have used any of the special paints in your house, I'd love to hear how it worked out...

Tuesday evening a young woman left a baby, born Tuesday, on a street corner in Erie. The baby, who was left in a good neighborhood, was found immediately and apparently is doing fine at the hospital. You can read the story here.

When I first heard of this, I wondered how someone could leave a baby like that. I wondered how anyone could give birth at home, despite the fact that I know this happens in many communities throughout the world. What if the baby wasn't facing the right way? What if the mom's placenta started to rupture? Did she need stitches after? What if the baby became distressed during delivery? So many things could happen during childbirth that it makes me shudder to think of not having the proper medical treatment.

I also wondered why the mom didn't just put the baby up for adoption. The people who would adopt the baby would most likely have taken care of her medical expenses throughout her pregnancy. The people I work with said maybe she was trying to hide her pregnancy. I can't imagine being able to hide full-term-pregnancy belly, but they say it can probably be done, depending on the body type of the mom.

After some more thought, I must say that I not only feel awful for the baby, but I feel bad for the mom, too. You'd think with so many teenage pregnancies and babies born out of wedlock that a young mother would no longer feel like it was necessary to hide her pregnancy and/or secretly give birth to a baby. Seriously -- hasn't the shock of a young, single mom worn off by now? What does this say about our society that this girl may have felt she had no other options? Where was the girl's family and what kind of messages is she receiving from them that she felt she had to delivery a baby at home then leave him at a corner?

So many questions and no answers. We can only hope that as the baby's cared for at the hospital, somewhere, someone is caring for the mom, too.

This morning, a woman claiming to be the mother of the abandoned baby turned herself in to the district attorney. You can read about it here. She's still in her late teens. At one time, she was somebody's baby and maybe she still is.

Someday my baby will be that age and it's up to me to raise her in a way that, hopefully, she will not end up in a situation like this -- desperate and frightened and alone. I hope that she will always be comfortable with me and with her father and feel that she can tell us anything. I hope that her choices in life wouldn't allow her to be in this situation to begin with. But that's just hope.

I don't imagine many parents want to see their teenage child having a baby and I can't imagine many teens want to see themselves on the verge of parenthood. Yet it happens all the time. If this wasn't a circumstance we could use as an advocate for abstinence first and not abstinence only, I don't know what would be. Unfortunately, we cannot control our children's actions and that starts way back when an infant turns their head away from peas but opens wide for peaches.

If we don't teach kids what else is out there to protect themselves from sexually transmitted diseases or to prevent themselves from unwanted pregnancies, how can we expect them to know? We all know peer pressure is strong in teens -- we all lived through those years, we should know. If the teen decides not to choose abstinence and that's the only thing taught, you will end up in a less-than-desirable situation. Your baby will have a baby. Or your baby will come home with herpes.

No thanks.

As parents, it's our responsibility to make sure we present the facts then hope that we've guided our children throughout their lives in such a way that they'll make good decisions. If there's one thing that we should have learned back with that spoonful of strained peas, you can't make your child do or not do anything they haven't decided upon themselves.

While we still don't know who will end with custody of little Baby Boy Doe, the baby left on a street corner Tuesday evening, we do know that right now he's safe. And because of tight-lipped officials, his mom is safe, too.

Can you imagine the backlash she'd receive if her identity became public? This woman, who was frightened enough to hide her pregnancy from her family and deliver her baby alone, would become everyone's favorite verbal punching bag. She'd probably have to move if she wanted to have a completely anonymous, normal life again.

Please don't think I agree with her decisions. I don't. But as I said before, I feel for her on so many levels. I don't want this to ruin her life. As it is, if she or someone in her family ends up with custody, for the rest of her life she might be thinking of what could have happened if she had never come forward and said she was the mother. If she ends up putting the baby up for adoption, each Mother's Day and each July 18, she'll think of that little boy that she doesn't hold in her arms.

I'm sure there are people who think she lost her chance to be a parent to this baby the moment she put him on the corner. But maybe someday she'll be sitting with her son in her arms and be so grateful for the pregnancy she once hid and for the baby she once tried to give away. Then again, maybe someone else will sit out there and rock this little boy, grateful for the mom who gave him up so someone else could love him, too. Either way, this ending is much better than the could-have-been scenarios we all thought of earlier this week.

And doesn't it really make you want to go give your children a hug?

Yesterday after Autumn woke up from her nap I asked Keith if he'd come with me for a walk at Erie Bluffs State Park. This was only the second time I'd walked at the park -- the first was when I was alone and there for work purposes.

The land, on the western side of Girard Township, is currently undeveloped. The park was acquired by the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy in December 2003 and then was released to DCNR and proclaimed a state park in June 2004. It's so undeveloped and so new of a state park that there's not even a sign there. If you didn't know where the park was, you would probably drive right by.

I like the park, despite the long walk through a field, then through the woods. Once you get to the edge of the lake, it's not as though you can just jump in for a swim. You somehow have to manage to get down the bluff, which is not easy. The first time I went to the park, I slid halfway down on my butt. Yesterday we had Autumn with us and did not try to get down to the water. We were content to stand along the edge of the bluff and just stare out at the endless expanse of water. Afterward, we had to push the all-terrain stroller back up the steep trail, which gave our legs a workout. I pushed halfway then Keith pushed the other half because I was huffing and puffing.

There's been talk about putting an inn, campgrounds and picnic areas on the 540-acre park. You can read about the Bluffs here and the most recent piece on developing the Bluffs here. Conservationists are fighting this and after a trip out there, you might see why, too. I like this park because it's undeveloped. The trails are just enough to help you find your way, but not so much that you feel as though they were manmade. It's just simple paths worn down by the feet of others who wanted a little respite from city life.

I grew up in the country. I played on acres of land and got lost in the woods. What I like about the Bluffs is that it takes me back to my childhood. When I look around and see subdivisions full of houses popping up on formerly vacant land, when I see new Wal-Marts appear on every corner and when I hear about farms closing, I think acres of cornfields and woods like you currently find at the Bluffs will soon be gone. As Autumn grows up, already in a more "urban" location than I grew up, will she ever have a chance to lose herself in the trees? Will she not be afraid to get her hands dirty or to search for salmanders? Why can't this one place remain unchanged when so much else is changing?

Yesterday we passed a grand total of seven people. Two groups of two and one of three. I think if I passed as many people as I do on the multipurpose trail at Presque Isle State Park, the Bluffs would lose much of its appeal for me. If I want to see other people or walk on a nice, easy trail, I'll go to Presque Isle. If I want to lose myself in the woods, and in my childhood, I'd rather have the Bluffs. I can only wait and see what will happen next.

I am not a swimmer. I grew up playing in the shallow end when we went to pools. I was scared to dunk my head under water. I was scared to even think of attending the 4-H camp one of my really good friends went to because I knew they gave a swimming test at the start of camp.

In college I started dating this guy who loved the water. He was a swimmer in high school and spent all his summers by the lake. His mom had him in the pool at 6 months old. For his summer job, he was a lifeguard. One time I went to Presque Isle with this guy and he flipped me over his back, face first into the water. At that moment, I became rather wary of him in the water and tried not to let him get too close.

So I let his Mom start teaching me how to swim. She got me floating on my back, doing a little bit of backstroke and being able to move along in a life jacket. That way when her son and I went on our honeymoon, I was able to go snorkeling and to swim with the dolphins (all with a life jacket on, though).

Now Keith and I have a little girl who's spending summers riding Grandpa and Grandma's boat. We've taken her on the Jet Ski (slowly and when it's flat, of course). Always, her Daddy is there. I know he'd never let anything happen to us, even if he did once plop me face-first into the water. I also know he's a strong enough swimmer that we're all really safe with him. And Autumn doesn't get near the docks without her special "boat coat."

Regardless, if we're spending our summers on the water or at Lake Erie's beaches, I need to know how to swim, too. I don't ever want to be put in a position with Autumn where she's in trouble and I can't help. When she turns 3, we'll be signing her up for swim lessons. Until then, we can only acclimate her to the water. And until then, I can learn.

I'm almost finished with my second set of eight sessions. Last winter I took private lessons from K out at my local high school's pool. After K left, no private lessons were offered for winter and spring. But now, M, who just graduated from high school, is teaching me. Soon she'll go off to college and hopefully someone else will teach private lessons over the fall and winter. Although I really want to learn how to swim, I'm not taking lessons with 5-year-olds.

And so far I am learning. M made me swim 100 yards last night. Granted, I'm huffing and puffing in between laps, but at least I'm doing it. After all, I have a lot of motivation and it comes in the form of one cute little girl named Autumn.

Autumn has really been exercising her independence lately. Enough that Keith keeps thinking she's going through the "Terrible Twos" four months early. So I figured I'd look through "The Secret Lives of Toddlers" to see if anything in there mentions the kind of behavior she's displaying. And I got distracted by a different chapter: "Why do toddlers cooperate in slow motion?"

It opens with "If there is one privilege of early childhood I covet as an adult, it's a toddler's right to exist in her own, self-regulated perception of time. Within the bounds of their parent-controlled schedules, toddlers have the luxury of following their fascinations, sometimes racing at breakneck speed from one experience to the next; sometimes lingering over one toy, one concept, one new skill for hours, or even days."

Isn't this the truth? When they want to dawdle, it seems we want to go. When they want to go, we want to dawdle. This morning, it seemed to take Autumn and I five minutes to go down the stairs from the first floor to the basement. It always takes a little extra time because she'll stop halfway down the steps, point at the big windows in the basement and say, "'side. Walk." At that point I have to tell her we're not going for a walk outside. We're going in the car to school. Often, she'll also point at the video game controllers and say, "Dada." I tell her, yes, those are Dada's toys. And of course she must carry her own lunch bag and hold on to the railing herself, which means I just have to slowly back down the steps, prepared to catch her if the need arises.

Today, too, she stood at the top of the steps saying "bye" until I asked Daddy to come to the steps so she could see him and say goodbye. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of getting her to school and me to work.

In the evenings, she could spend loads of time visiting the neighbor's dog. She squats down next to the dog and she says "Dee Dee" (the dog's name) or "doggie" until we ask her to say goodbye. Yet if I want ever want her to sit patiently, she wants to run around in circles, exploring.

The book says we should not call our kids lazy or slowpoke. It suggests giving a five minute warning when we're going to need them to stop with a beloved activity. And it suggests making a game out of speeding up, racing them to get from one place to the next or asking them to beat their record for how fast it takes them to get dressed.

It all amazes me now that I think about it. Every parent remarks that their kids are growing up too fast. Yet when they're little, we try to hurry them up and not let them take that time they need to grow. And on the flip side, while we want them to develop independence, we also try to make them conform to our lifestyle, making them sit still instead of exploring.

Doesn't it make you wonder when they're really having fun?

This morning I went into Autumn's room after she woke up. The stench threw me off so much I looked in her crib to see if there was a pile of something there. Thankfully, there was not. So I passed her off to her Daddy, told him her room stunk, and went to take my shower.

Before we left the house, I ran back to her room to get something else and it still stunk. Keith blames it on the Diaper Genie, because the diaper from last night wasn't twisted. Every time we empty the contraption, it untwists itself after the first diaper or two until, I assume, there's enough diapers for one to anchor on the bottom as the rest twist around. For those of you who don't know, after placing a diaper in the Diaper Genie, you twist it shut. This creates a long string of diapers that resembles a string of sausages, for lack of a better analogy. This does help keep the diaper pail stench down, but when you're working with bodily excrements, nothing can keep it totally away once you pop the lid.

I've seen another diaper pail, the Diaper Champ. I'm never real good with it, and always have problems getting the diaper into the cavernous area below. I can only assume, though, that this is similar to the genie in that it keeps the smell away when closed, but makes you want hold your nose when emptying the holding area.

Most times, Autumn's room just smells like a baby. It's only immediately after a change that it has some lingering stench. So I give a lot of credit to the Diaper Genie for that. However, when we empty the genie, God help us. You don't want to get your nose in the other end, and that's even with the diapers wrapped up like little sausages in what's supposed to be odor-eating plastic. I guess that's why there's Lysol and Febreze.

But this all makes me wonder, do parents use the same diaper pail with the second child?

Back in the days Before Autumn, we used to be able to easily visit a set of parents. We used to be able to join friends for dinner at any restaurant we chose. We used to be able to go shopping on a whim. Now we don't go anywhere on a whim. And when we do go somewhere, it looks like we're preparing for a natural disaster with all the stuff we take with us.

When we go away for the weekend, we sometimes try and usually fail to have the car ready so we can leave immediately after driving home from work. Even if we manage to get 90 percent of our items into the car, we often have to grab a cooler, fill it with whole milk, yogurt and other Autumn-approved food that might not be at our destination.

We have to grab the Pack’n Play for her to sleep in, a stroller of some sort and a little portable booster seat. There’s a bag of diapers, a box of wipes, butt cream, sippy cups, toys, board books, cloth bibs, disposable bibs, disposable placemats, clothes for sleep, clothes for play, clothes in case she drools or leaks out of her diaper, noise machine which plays “ocean” all night long, her blanket, shampoo, Bear in the Big Blue House DVD and CDs full of music. Sometimes there’s bubbles, sand pails and a toy mower stuffed in there, too.

And then, after we’ve packed the car full of her things, Keith and I need to find room for our own bags. I’ve found that when I want to squeeze in some knitting, often I’m literally squeezing it into the car. Sometimes I think we’re lucky if the door shuts.

This weekend we have an extra challenge. We’re heading down to a family reunion and a graduation party for my niece this evening. So in the car I have a case of water, some books to lend to my sister and some paint-with-water books I picked up for someone else. I still need to add my sister-in-law’s birthday gift and some a pack of water balloons I have stashed away.

I’m not sure how much room will be left after all of that. So if you see someone driving down I-86 this evening with their husband strapped to the roof of the car, feel free to honk and wave at me.

Every parent, at one point or another, has been made a liar by his or her child. I've seen it with my nieces and nephews and now I've seen it firsthand. Twice.

As I've mentioned before, Autumn won't let us feed her anymore. She must do it herself. I've told this to my family, my friends and all of you who read my blog. Yet, the last time my parents were up to dinner here, Autumn let my father feed her yogurt. She quit eating, he picked up her spoon and she gladly opened her mouth to him and finished off the yogurt. So, mommy was a liar.

Since the summer started, Autumn has refused to eat the chicken breast and pork chops she used to love. She throws it on the floor if I offer it to her. At a family reunion this weekend, I gave her some turkey cold cuts because I said she wouldn't eat any of the other meat there. My brother put some chickens in his deep-fryer at dinner. As my mom sat down to eat her dinner (after Autumn ate the turkey and a container of applesauce), Autumn climbed up on Grandma's lap. She proceeded to eat all of my mom's chicken. I refilled three times and Autumn just kept eating. I couldn't believe it.

Despite how much she kept eating my Mom's chicken, I have a feeling the next time I offer her some, she'll tell me she's all done without even eating a bite. After all, what fun would there be in making me a liar when there's nobody to see me? But on Saturday, I bet inside her little mind, she was chuckling with each bite of chicken.