Elise Navidad!

Sleepwalker

I am a sound sleeper and always have been. (I slept through a car crash outside my window, a bedroom visit from firefighters checking for CO and  didn't even notice when my parents once slid a three-pound bag of peanut M&Ms under my pillow -- really.)

With that sound sleeping came the occasional sleep-walking episode. I'd walk in my room, out in the hall, into my parents' room, and even down the stairs.

I've been reminded of those unusual sleep routines recently, now that Elise is sleeping in a twin bed and has discovered that she can actually get out of bed if she wants. There no longer are crib rails to confine her.

She has adjusted quite well to sleeping in a regular bed -- when she is sleeping. It can be a different story if she cannot fall asleep or wakes up in the middle of the night and is upset.

That is when she is prone to going walkabout. Sure, it's not actual sleep walking, but it might as well be. She is tired and confused.

The first episode happened a couple of months ago and, quite honestly, it freaked me out. I was not afraid for her safety -- we have a gate; she was fine -- but it gave me the willies when I looked up the dark stairway and saw two little eyes staring back at me.

It was creepier than it may seem, especially because she was silent, just staring.

She has since woken up from time to time and walked into the hallway, where we can hear her while we're downstairs. We usually just tell her it's time to sleep, so go back to bed, and she'll do it.

She tried something new the other night. Anni put her to bed, but Elise was wide awake. Anni was downstairs and could hear Elise singing at the top of her little lungs, just belting out tunes and jabbering to herself while in bed. 

Then, it was silent. A short time later Anni heard knocking on a window upstairs. How's that for creepy? But then Anni heard the familiar patter, patter, patter sound across the wood floors, and knew Elise went walkabout again. Sure enough, there she was, staring through the gate down the stairs. Anni, trying not to laugh at the shenanigans, told Elise it was time to go back to sleep.

With that, Elise dashed back to her bed and finally crashed.

Until the following morning. The sun came up but we were still sleeping. Then we heard that patter, patter, patter across the hallway and looked up to see somebody standing in our room, waiting to start the day.

And on that occasion, even I woke up.

Take a little trip...

The December weather in the Twin Cities just isn't miserable enough, so Anni and I spent a few days last week as far north in Minnesota as you can possibly go. We stayed at the Gunflint Lodge, an old cabin/resort spot on a lake that serves as part of the border -- demilitarized zone? -- between Minnesota and Canada.

And, yes, you could actually see Canada from our cabin's front door.

We used the trip as a mini-vacation, after realizing the last time we left Elise at home was nearly a year and a half ago. This trip was a blast. The weather turned out to be better up there than it was at home. It was a very relaxing few days, and I'd highly recommend the resort to anyone willing to make the -- gulp -- six-hour drive from the Twin Cities.

A few highlights:

Roadthrill: Since deer are domesticated in the Twin Cities, the sight of whitetails in "natural habitat" doesn't do much for us. A wolf, though? Now we're talking. We spotted a wolf lurking near the highway. Then we nearly had a new hood ornament when we rounded a curve at dusk only to find a female moose meandering across the road. (I slowed for a better look. That wasn't good enough, though: Anni proceeded to roll down her window. No, we didn't feed the moose.) We also flushed a couple of stunning bald eagles from whatever they were feasting on in roadside ditches.

Name game: You gotta love a geographical area that features a Castle Danger Road and a Cut Face Creek.

Thank you, Finns: Our cabin had a sauna. I had forgotten how nice it is to "take a sauna."

Deserted in December: The resort has at least two dozen cabins. We had one of only two cabins that were reserved the days we were there. (It helps to go mid-week in December, I guess.)

Friendly fire: Gas fireplaces may be convenient, but nothing beats a wood fireplace. We kept ours stoked the whole visit.

Life imitates art: Picture those paintings of serene winter scenes with snow-capped trees. Now picture yourself smack dab in the middle of the real thing. That's what you get for 40 miles along the Gunflint Trail.  

OK, enough gushing about the Gunflint. Here are some photos, posted here only because I have nowhere else to post them.

Narnia? Nah, just a hiking/snowshoeing trail.

This was what we saw outside our living room window -- because everybody leaves corn outside the cabins. I would have been more impressed if a moose showed up to graze.

 A typical view along the Gunflint Trail.

The aptly named Lonely Lake. 

It snowed a few inches one day -- and then we came home and it snowed 18 inches.

Pony

 Clydesdale

We tuned the TV to the fireplace channel.

There was a massive forest fire a few years ago in this area of northern Minnesota. So there are areas where entire stands of deciduous trees are now just charred toothpicks. (And, yes, I realize I just used the word "deciduous.")

Lake Superior is starting to freeze. That's Grand Marais in the background. It's a small town that in the winter slightly resembles Cicely from "Northern Exposure." No Fleischman sightings, though.

Forecast: Warm, but not for long

What do Minnesotans do when the temperature drops, the snow flies and the pale gray sky hangs low?
We head for the warmth and tropical-like humidity of the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory in St. Paul. (And you thought I'd say we hop on a flight south.)
Anni and I took Elise to Como last weekend. It's a great way to remember that, despite winter's strong grip, summer and green plants and heat and sun are only months away. (Optimism reigns in December. It's gone by February, only to return in late March.) Plus, Como is free, so there is that.
It was a good trip, but also a reminder that you've got to stay close when a 20-month-old starts fondling the flowers. (Yes, they're real and the pile of petals you just yanked from the flower and tossed to the ground is evidence. Sigh.)
Elise liked the plants and fish. Mom and Dad liked the heat and humidity. Then we walked outside, got smacked by the cold December air and wondered how long it'd be until spring.

Gobble, gobble.

It's not hard thinking of what to be thankful for.

Paint by numbers? No, paint by mouth.

Potty prowess

I bet that two of the toughest tests of whether a child is potty-trained come while taking long car rides or waiting in line with mom for the bathroom at a ballgame.

The real test, however, comes when that child gets a bout of the stomach flu.

I'll spare you the details, but some gut bug has been passed around this household for the past few weeks. Elise had her turn last week.
A bit of background: We are three months into potty training and, thanks largely to Anni and Elise's teacher, that young girl rarely has an accident anymore. (Elise and I struggled with potty training at first, but are getting along better now.) Not only that, we rarely buy diapers anymore. She only wears them when she naps or sleeps.

She does really well telling us when she needs to go -- and if we don't hear her she is so helpful that she will just pull her pants down while standing in the living room, kitchen or maybe even a store. Our bathroom may be mistaken for a children's library, the abundance of books that are in there to keep her entertained, but you do what works. And that works.

So, at 20 months old, her true potty training test came with the recent illness. She only had two "accidents" over the course of a week in which she was plagued with off-and-on flu symptoms. Not bad.

To show our appreciation for her potty prowess, maybe we'll take a long drive to a sporting event.

What's up, Stripes?

Bundle up

With the first snowfall here this weekend, we had an opportunity to bundle up Elise and send her out into the drifts. She was reluctant to wear snow pants, boots and mittens, so I first brought her out in shoes and no mittens. She quickly decided mittens are good and, realizing she couldn't go in the yard unless she had boots, eventually accepted boots upon her feet.
She generally likes being outside, for which we're thankful, but the snow kind of confused her. Probably didn't help that just one night earlier we were playing out in the yard -- on grass.
After the next big snow, we'll get Miss Michelin -- it's tough for her to move in all of those clothes -- out there again and pull her in the sled around the yard.

 The caption for this photo? "Potty, Momma."

 Wow, that's pink. She actually picked out all of these clothes. Not sure whether we should be impressed by her color coordination or, well, scared by her color coordination.

Three's company

Elise had a slumber party this weekend. Her cousins Randy and Jacob spent the weekend with us. It was a full house -- so that's what 3 children would be like -- but they had a good time.

 Why not hold a bowl for a picture?

At 20 months, a new word

How naive of me. I foolishly thought that we might coast through toddlerdom without hitting the "no" stage.
It was going so well -- we rarely heard that word.
Now we hear it. Me, especially.
Elise's favorite line seems to be: "No, Daddy." It's usually followed by two little hands pushing firmly at my knees, in an attempt to keep me from leading her through daily activities like brushing teeth or even waking up in the morning. It's just delightful.
Oh, sure, she also uses "No, Momma" from time to time, but uttering "No, Daddy" is the preferred act of defiance right now. That, and the occasional falling-on-the-ground-crying-and-flailing episode. To be honest, it's a struggle. Drives me crazy and tests the patience in a new way. I'm not use to that behavior (mental note: get a job in a school) and I find myself trying to outsmart her or trick her into dropping the defiance. It's a mental game -- and I'm getting schooled.
The bright side? Sometimes those defiant pout-and-whine fests are inexplicably followed by a grin, a giggle and a big hug. Here's hoping that continues beyond toddlerdom.

Happy Halloween

Apparently 19 months old is old enough to know the difference between regular clothes and a costume.
Anni found this gnome Halloween costume for Elise, but we had been unsuccessful in convincing her to try it on at home. So, it went to school with her today for the Halloween party and, by golly, Elise was fine wearing it if her teacher helped to put it on her.
We'll try again at home Sunday. If the gnome is a no-go, there is a back-up bumblebee costume in the inventory. And if that doesn't work, maybe she'll go trick-or-treating dressed as a 19-month-old.

She wasn't as unhappy as she looks. I think.

The gnome and the skunk.

 Ever met a skirt-lifting gnome? Yep, she belongs to us.

 Anni manned the face/hand painting station at the school party.

 

My costume includes a glass eyeball.

Slice of life

In this house, if you want apple pie you need to work for it. And, yes, that means learning to cut apples. We're still working on the lesson that you cannot eat one apple slice for every two you cut.

Apples and good times.

The streak continues. 

The annual Wente-Singel fall apple outing took place a few weeks ago. We hit a local orchard with friends Dan and Erin and their daughter, Avery. Good times.

This particular orchard charged for each outdoor activity. Here, the shakedown begins: the ladies approach the hay maze, where the goofball high-school worker did not know how much to charge for an entrance fee. Sir, you have one job and you get to do it sitting down. Let's memorize that long list of two entrance fees.

I'm allergic to hay. They're not. Therefore, I take the picture, they stand in the hay. (By the way, how lame is a hay allergy?)

No windfalls for this lady. We go to the top of the tree.

Elise would be perfectly content if people would hand-feed her at all meals. She also would be perfectly content if all meals were apples.

Walking with a purpose.

Sometimes I forgot how quickly Elise changes -- until I look at old photos. Here is last year's apple-feeding photo: