I Find This Odd

The main thing I wanted to discuss with Mia's doctor yesterday was her recent eating habits. Or, non-eating habits, to be specific. I wanted to make sure that even if she only took one measly bite at dinner, this didn't qualify as neglect on my part, and wouldn't affect her in the long run.

The doctor was very reassuring. She told me how common it is for kids her age to suddenly become picky eaters, refusing foods that used to be favorites. My favorite piece of advice from her was this: "She doesn't have the brain capacity at this age to starve herself. She will eat when she gets hungry enough." The only thing is, I have to be willing to withstand her trying to control the situation. I have to be firm in not giving in with snack-foods when she comes to me, hungry, after not finishing a meal.

I can do this. After all, I think Mia got her stubborn streak from me, and I can hold out for a looooong time. Knowing that I have the doctor's approval. Knowing that she'll give in and eat when she's hungry enough.

Some more helpful tips: Make snacks available at a set time, no grazing through the day. Always offer at least one food at mealtimes that she usually eats. Don't make meals a big huge battle, just set out the rules, and be calm throughout. It's her choice in the end.

When we got home yesterday it was just about lunch time, and I was armed with my new super-relaxed frame of mind for eating. I'd give her the food, encourage her with praise, and be done with it. She ended up eating really well, so I offered her a 'special treat' of raspberry yogurt.

Not a highly motivating treat, I know, but I'm also trying to add more healthy snacks to her day, and labeling something as 'special treat' has worked wonders so far. "Do you want a special treat of strawberries and blueberries with sugar?" Her eyes light up and she reverently says yes. "Would you like a special treat of a heart shaped peanut butter sandwich?" This may be her favorite 'treat' by far. I'd better watch myself though, and not stretch this too far with a broccoli treat, or an enchilada treat. I can't expose my winning hand.

But yesterday, she started eating her yogurt and got very distressed over the actual bits of berry inside. They were just the tiny seeds, but she was convinced they were fruit. (She loves fruit by itself, but mixed in with other stuff? No go.) I wasn't going to push it - after all, her meal was done and this was just dessert - so I offered her some carrot sticks instead of yogurt.

She contemplated this for a second before suggesting, "I want to dip carrots in the yogurt, Mom, OK?"

I was about to tell her all the ways this was gross, but stopped myself. If this would get a dairy product past her lips, it was fair game.

"Sure, honey, that sounds great!" (Snort.)

And she did it.

It took about 7 baby carrots, but she finished the entire carton of yogurt. By herself, willingly, enthusiastically, determinedly, adorably.

This leads me to wonder, what other normal foods would be made better by being dipped on a carrot? Mashed potatoes? Chili? Stew? Spaghetti? I'm totally employing this tactic next time we hit a roadblock.

She's not a baby. *Sigh*

When Mia was a baby, she learned to hate the doctor's office. From about 4 months on, she screamed through entire visits, while I sweated bullets trying to console her. Just about the time I'd get her calmed down from the nurse's thermometer in her rear, the doctor would show up and she'd start crying all over again. Heaven forbid she should be laid down on the exam table, otherwise known as 'the pit of horrors.' I tried to avoid that exam table at all costs, only giving in when she needed a shot.

Hmmm...exam table = shots. Smart girl I have. I'd climb over someone's shoulder to avoid certain pain too.

This morning, we went for Mia's 3-year checkup. And writing those words makes it seem like I've been living in a vacuum. I can't comprehend the fact that she's 3 now. It may sink in by the time she's 4. Holy mercy, FOUR?!

So, about that vacuum. I've been so sucked into the passage of time, that I forgot that she even needed a 3-year check, and she's a couple of months late for it. Oops.

I was so impressed by her behavior today! She was thrilled to be there, exhibiting her wide vocabulary and intelligent reasoning for most of the appointment. She begged to get on the exam table. Begged. I kept her off of it for as long as I could, and then when her doctor told her it was OK, she nearly fainted from pleasure.

Unbelievable! I can still feel the memory of my insides tensing up, knowing the screaming would begin any moment. Only this time...it didn't. She moved as instructed: sitting, lying, and rolling.

The only (small) glitch came when the doctor wanted to look in Mia's ears with the pointy little flashlight. Mia wasn't having it, so she covered both ears and yelled what I can only imagine were obscenities in her own private language. What we heard was, "UUUUAAAAHHHEEENNNN!!!"

Overall, it was a great morning (thanks to my multi-talented friend Jill for babysitting Lauren!) and I walked away from the doctor's office in awe of this little human. It really is true that those baby/toddler difficulties will cease, eventually. (I won't ruin this by mentioning that they will be replaced by different, no less challenging difficulties. Will I?) Each day leads to the next, and each new skill moves them farther away from being an unreadable baby.

I haven't yet decided if I like this. I'm really not ready to be baby-less.

Nana-Enforced Memories

When it began snowing and sleeting a few days ago, Mia was very concerned. She remembers slipping on the ice in the preschool parking long last year, and doesn't want to be walking on slippery things. I'm assuming. It's really dangerous to assume the thoughts of a three year old.

So when my mom suggested to her yesterday that she'd enjoy going outside to play in the snow, Mia was flummoxed.

Outside? Where there's wet snow? Covering things? Making things slippery?

But her Nana persevered, much to my amusement. Didn't she know she was trying to move the mountainous will of a toddler? I sat back, content to know that I wouldn't have to bundle either of us up for such an adventure. I've never been one to play in the snow.

Watch it falling peacefully beyond my window, sure. Get cold and wet at the same time, no.

Eventually, Mia's mind began to change, though. I could see it in the far-off look in her eyes. She was imagining building that snowman Nana had spoken of. She was picturing a snowsuit and boots on herself. She was dreaming of playing outside in the dead of winter after being cooped up for days. Her mountainous will had changed, and not in a direction that was beneficial to me.

"Mama! I get to play in the snow! Can I go right now, please, Mama?!"

I fixed my traitorous mother with a withering stare. I couldn't possibly take both girls outside by myself in this stuff. Mia would need help, and I couldn't put baby Lauren down to scoot around in the snow.

So I answered Mia with the most logical solution I could find: "When your daddy gets home, he can take you outside, OK Mia?" I almost tacked on my evil-plan-laugh for good measure, but I didn't want her to think waiting a few hours for her dad was in opposition to her idea of fun.

Thankfully, my mom took it from there, telling Mia how much fun she'd have with her daddy. Mia was enthralled, and for the rest of the afternoon we told stories about Princess Mia playing in the snow with various other poor shmucks, I mean - princesses. The most obvious choice being Snow White, of course. Somehow, we ended up with the princesses all building a snowman that looked like Aladdin, and Mia fixed her hopes on this becoming a reality.

When I told Justin what awaited him at the end of his long work day, he had some choice words for my mom for suggesting such rubbish. It would be getting dark by the time he got home! Mia doesn't have a snowsuit! It's colder than Jupiter out there! (Jupiter's cold, right?)

I helpfully left out the part about it being my suggestion to wait until he got home. There's no need for him to know that.

(Hi, babe...I'm exaggerating for effect here...it was all my mom's idea...mkay?)

When it was just about time for Justin to get home, I started arranging for a snowsuit for the little girl who wanted so badly to play outside. It was quite a hodge-podge, but didn't I grow up just fine in hodge-podge snowsuits?

What's that you say? I don't like playing in snow after wearing the hodge-podge all my life? Meh, no biggie.

We got out her old rain-boots, and several layers of shirts and wind-pants over tights, and VOILA! Snowsuit!

She did look awfully cute; even I was getting excited for her to get snow-play-time.

Yes, she is sniffing her boots. This girl is a scent maniac. She can recognize a person by their smell from a mile away. Shortly after this photo was snapped, she declared, "they smell like pink candy!"

Justin ushered her outdoors soon after arriving home, and the fun began. I stepped outside to catch her in action, because that smile nestled in those rosy cheeks was too much to resist.

Justin encouraged her to throw some snowballs at mama, and I was reminded again of my dislike for playing in snow. But...I suppose...her happiness was worth the powdery stuff flying down my shirt.

Then came the snowman she had been waiting for all day. It was...It was...

Tiny. I am aware that the only reason he is a cute snowman is because Mia is squatting so sweetly beside him. To be fair though, there really wasn't enough snow or remaining daylight to make a good Aladdin snowman. Thank goodness.

Poor thing doesn't even have eyes. Justin told me to go get some buttons or something, but I said, "then he'd be able to see how pathetic he is."

When they were fully frozen and soaked through, my snow-bunnies came inside for dinner. Mia loved every minute (all 15 of them) of her snow play, and I complimented Justin on his great daddy-ing for going out with her, even when it wasn't the most appealing prospect at the end of his day.

I promised I'd write about how much fun Mia got to have because of his willingness to play. He told me (and my mom), "Put that in your blog and smoke it."

And since this is already the longest post in the history of posts, I'll leave you with one final picture. Think, 'sweet & cute,' instead of 'sad & pathetic.'

10 Months

Today, Lauren, you are 10 months old. I don't see the same baby that I did 9 months ago, or 9 weeks ago, or even 9 days ago. You change so quickly, and I am amazed.

Right now you are playing amidst a rambling pile of toys and cheerios. Yes, I let you eat cheerios off the floor. Mostly because you've eaten worse things off the floor, and done so with a smile on your sweet little face. Partly because you get mad when you're left in your high chair while I attempt a quick blog post.

You are the sweetest baby I've ever met. I'll grant you that all babies are sweet in an innocent and fresh sort of way, but your disposition is sweet. Whenever you scoot around a corner and spy the face of a loved one, you break out in a smile wider than I though possible for such a new person to have. You immediately begin 'talking' to me when I come to rescue you from your crib in the morning, even if you had been fussy the moment before. No grudges from you, my sweet sweet girl.

There are times when I look at you and wonder, Where did you come from? Whose child are you? For, while I distinctly remember you being born of my body, you are quite a mystery to me. These thoughts pop up when I start noticing little personality traits that you are developing as you grow. I realize that I will begin to really know you more and more as the months fly by, and I am excited. Scared to trade your baby-ness in for toddler-ness, but excited nevertheless to know you better.

What I know so far? You are so smart. You have knowledge hidden behind those blue eyes that you just haven't yet found ways to express. I get the feeling when you look at me that you are wiser than I know, and when you are grown, will repeat back to me your memories of this time.

You love to find two fingers that are willing to walk you around the house. You are ticklish on every part of your tiny body. Your sister effortlessly makes you laugh. You pull yourself across the floor like you are swimming on solid ground. You know that the remote controls the TV, and will wave it around in that general direction, watching expectantly for the flashing lights to begin. You love to imitate our actions: waving, blinking, clapping, dancing, giggling, grunting, speaking. Your first words - bye bye - happened this month. When a song starts playing, you beebop your little self to the rhythm.




You hate getting just a little bit of attention, and then being left alone. You love your sister more than any other person or object. But you love your 'Brown Bear, Brown Bear' book almost as much. You look at my face when I read certain words in books, and will start laughing if I repeat those words often enough while you watch my mouth move. 'Star,' 'Baby,' and 'Purple Cat' are your gut-busting favorites. You will hold heartfelt, emotional conversations with your fluffy pink lamb, and kiss it's face for several minutes without distraction. You give freely of your kisses, and your baby's breath is intoxicating.


You don't like pureed baby food - it's not a hateful dislike, you simply appear bored and superior in it's presence - and would rather eat cooked veggies if given the opportunity. You are beginning to be afraid when I leave you now. My heart breaks for you to know fear. You are beginning to covet your sister's toys and snacks. My heart cowers in anticipation of future disputes.


You are beginning to grow up. Have already begun. Are already grown.



My heart swells.

Where Does She Get This Stuff?

This blog is quickly turning into a running dialogue of Mia's days. And I'm fine with that - she says the funniest things. It makes me glad that I get to stay home eating donuts and watching cartoons all day with the kiddos.

I'm kidding! We don't watch cartoons all day! As for the donuts, however...I can't help it. I might benefit from a donut intervention.

Anyway, just now Mia said to me, "I need help to find some clothes, mama, because my heart hurts."

Wha...??

Is this a ploy for medication?

I realized this weekend that I am actually grateful for her being a Tylenol fiend. We had to give her the concentrated baby Tylenol since we are out of children's Tylenol. It wasn't pretty. Apparently, it's "too yucky!" and we almost never got her to take it. I'll settle for her licking the little dosage cup clean rather than try for 45 minutes to have her finish less than half a teaspoon of medicine. It was torture - for her as well as Justin and I.

I'll settle for her sweetly saying, "My....armpit hurts, I need some Tylenol, please?"

Tylenol is to Mia as Donuts are to Mama.

Almost Back To Her Old Self

It was a long, feverish, meal-lacking weekend over here. Mia is better - but by better, I mean whining at record levels. Her attitude is always a bit sour after being sick, so I know she'll snap out of it soon and get back to her conversational self.

I've had a few glimpses of conversation with her so far today. This one was enlightening and intelligent:
"Where did my things go, mama?"
"What things babe?"
"My other things. Where are they?"
"I don't know, sweetie, what did they look like?"
"They looked like my other things, mama."

Then there was this at lunchtime. Also clear and clever:
"When I finish my lunch, I can have some M&M's, right mama?"
"That's right, babe, just eat some lunch, and you'll get some M&M's."
"No, I don't want lunch!"
"Well, then you don't get your M&M's."
"No, I don't want M&M's!"

See? Hope is on the horizon.

The Food Feud, Episode 3, or Where's My 'World's Best Mom' Award?

Lasts night's dinner was a raging failure.

I had high hopes, because Mia had barely had any lunch, thus no snacks were allowed that afternoon. She was asking for her dinner by about 4:00 PM (my wittle heart was breaking, I tell you) and I just knew she'd eat well. I was making Ugly Naked Chicken, a glazy, sweet recipe that she always likes.

So she sat down and started eating, actually taking unprompted bites, but then she started squirming in her chair which eventually led to a huge bruise on her hip. Dinner never recovered. She cried throughout the rest of the meal, wanting me to hold her, and laying her head down on the table.

Since I was trying to feed Lauren at the same time, I couldn't hold her, and I only gave her a few hugs. (But I was able to snap some photos for my blog...priorities, I tell you.) I looked at this as a good opportunity for her to learn a lesson the hard way - sit still in your booster seat, or you might get hurt.

By the time Lauren was finished with her meal, Mia hadn't taken a single bite beyond the first 4 or so she began with. I left her there with all kinds of encouraging words while I got the girls' jammies ready and started the bathwater. I had set the timer, and when I walked back in the kitchen to let her know how many minutes she had left, I found her asleep.

At the table.

Lights on, sister babbling and crashing toys around on the floor.

This was completely unprecedented. Mia has only ever fallen asleep outside of a dark bedroom one time before, and that was when she was getting an ear infection at school one day. (So...not completely unprecedented, I guess. I'm nothing if not historically accurate, I tell you.)

Justin got home late last night, so I just let her sleep there while I bathed Lauren and got her ready for bed. I carried Mia to her room just before I nursed Lauren at about 6:30.

When I told him later what had been going on, Justin got all worried that his baby girl was sick. I was all, "Calm down, she woke up too early this morning, so she's had a long day with not much food, she's just waaay tired. Don't worry so much."

He was asking all kinds of questions about her temperature, and salmonella from peanut butter, and various other possibilities, but I assured him: "Mia is fine. Enjoy our quiet night!"

So we did. It was very quiet, and we went to bed early, too. Only to wake up to a vomitous Mia at 3:00 AM.

Dang. Justin was right.

After he helped me clean her up, I couldn't get back to sleep for being mad at myself. She just wanted me to hold her at dinner...and all I did was calmly tell her to quit crying and eat.

She's not been able to keep anything down today, and is, at this moment, sleeping on towels on our bed. Her eyes are glossy, her face is pale, and she barely moves except to hug her little elephant closer.

I deserve the World's Best Mother Award, like I deserve an Oscar Award: Not at all, I tell you.

Three Year Old Logic

Yesterday as I was playing with the girls instead of getting dinner started on time, I asked Mia who my two sweet girls are.

Her answer: "Mia Marie, and Lauren Jade, and Daddy!"

I chose to question neither the gender nor the number. I love asking open-ended questions like this. The answers are always fun!

In other news, Lauren is really scooting now. Her army crawl is perfected, and she uses her toes, knees, and elbows to propel herself forward. It's amazing how fast she can go...and how dirty the tummy of her shirt can get. I should really deep-clean my floors.

Have a nice day!

The Food Feud, Episode 2

It's not getting better yet. Since we started this whole business, Mia has eaten very little dinner on her own. I've stopped yelling and stressing out about it. Or, I've tried to stop showing that I'm stressed out about it. It makes the meal too negative to be enjoyed by anyone.

Here's what usually happens:

1. Mia gets her plate set in front of her.
2. She looks at it skeptically, before declaring, "I don't like this...it's too yucky."
3. Mom or Dad says, "Too bad, babe, this is what's for dinner."
4. Mom or Dad forks up her first bite, lays it on her plate, and tells her the expectations.
5. Which are - Eat your food, so you'll have time to play when you're done. Otherwise you will go straight to bathtime, with no playing. (Lately, we've added these: no stories or songs at bedtime.)
6. Mia says, "I don't want to play," with a dirty frown on her face.
7. Mom, Dad, and LJ start eating. Making all kinds of noise about how delicious it is, and how good Lauren is doing.
8. Mia squirms, sings, drinks, makes napkin babies, and plays. It doesn't matter that there is no toy in sight - her fingers become animals, walking across her chair and plate.
9. Mom or Dad tell her to turn around and eat.
10. She doesn't.
11. Dad bursts a blood vessel in his forehead after telling her to sit still and eat.
12. 45 minutes later, Mom sets the timer.
13. Everyone else is done, playing in the other room, or cleaning up the kitchen.
14. "10 minutes left until bathtime, Mia. You'd better hurry and eat if you want to be able to play."
15. Mia says, "NO PLAYING!"
16. She maybe takes a feeble bite or two.
17. "5 minutes left, Mia. Take another bite please."
18. The timer goes off.
19. She cries and throws a fit because she can't play games with Dad and LJ.
20. She's placed, sobbing, into the bathtub.


And so it goes. Breakfast and Lunch are better, but only because the foods are more kid-friendly, I'm guessing. However, I'm not going to feed her grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup for every meal. She's old enough to handle this. Right? She should be able to look at a healthy, home-cooked dinner and not have a meltdown. I've tried to serve healthy, well-balanced meals from the beginning, and I think I've done a relatively good job. Why won't she eat it?!

This has happened so much that I worry about her getting enough food to eat. Surely this is not neglect, right? Maybe the 'neglect' came in when we placed every bite directly in her mouth for her 12 months ago, or when we used juice or bread to bribe her to eat 18 months ago, or when we didn't let her use her own utensil 24 months ago because it was such a mess.

I feel so bad about this. There's got to be something we can do to fix the problem we've created.

On the positive side, though, hopefully we won't make the same mistakes twice. With Lauren, we'll have a whole new set of mistakes to discover.

The Multipurpose Verb

Being a toddler has tons of perks. Naps after lunch, endless energy, catered meals, free car rides, this list goes on for miles. But it's also gotta be hard to live in their shoes when it comes to not knowing how to express themselves.

Sometimes it takes either a tantrum or a game of 20 (thousand) questions for Mia to get her point across. I can tell by the look on her face that she's frusrated by my occasional lack of understanding. Occasional, as in, several times every day.

So it really makes good sense for her to make up her own words sometimes. It's either make up a pretend word, or fish around with uuhh's and uumm's until both of us get bored. For example: 'bee-gock' can substitute for any noun - think, 'twinkle twinkle little bee-gock.' And 'kiki' is a good alternative for any adjective - so, 'mary had a kiki lamb.'

These songs have actually been sung that way recently by Mia. She should be a recording artist.

But the most used substitution in our house? The verb 'coke'. You didn't know coke was a verb?

I coke you no lies.

The other night we were playing a made up game where Justin or I would ask a question like 'what do you do if you're tired?' The answers were funny because sometimes they'd be right on, and sometimes they'd be right, but expressed in a way that an adult wouldn't neccessarily think of.

"Mia, what do you do if you're scared?" "I go like this:" (eyes wide open, teeth chattering, hands stiff and shaking.)

"What happens when it's light outside?" "It's good morning time!"

"What do you do if your pants are pulled up too high?" (As they were when this question was asked.) "You COKE 'em down!"

Justin and I busted up laughing. Now she uses 'coke' all the time if she can't think of the right verb quick enough. Or, I'm convinced, she knows the correct word to use, but coke is all-purpose, so she uses it instead. I try to look at it and see creativity.

The bad part is, I've caught myself using the word back to her. Instead of asking her to clean up her princess dresses last night, I said "Coke 'em all back in their box." She did exactly as she was told.

I'm thinking if using 'coke' can get her to cooperate better, I'll keep coke-ing it. I'll just coke this word until it's all coked out. Maybe then she'll always coke exactly what I coke her to - when I coke her to.

Isn't it weird when you look at a word so many times, and it starts looking like it's a foreign language or something...I'm so there with coke.

You too?

Well, I'd better coke back to my kiki beegock, now. Have a kiki day!

One of those milestone thingies

Lauren pulled herself up to stand at the couch!

She didn't seem like she understood how big of a deal this was, she was just excited to reach the coupons I was flipping through. But I was thrilled! She absolutely loves walking around while holding our fingers, and gets quite angry if she's not allowed to do so every waking minute of the day. This is another step towards her walking independently. Again - a happy milestone that makes me think of how quickly time passes.

It happened while I was watching President Obama's inauguration speech. And it made me think...she's pulling herself up to stand tall, just like our country will hopefully do under Obama's leadership.

(crickets chirping...)

Okay, so that was lame. But I did feel really hopeful today during all the inaugural ceremonies. I don't fully agree with all of his ideas, nor would I have agreed with all of McCain's ideas. BUT...I do see this as a major turning point for our country and am excited to see what happens next. I hope he can fulfill some of the good things he's represented so far. I hope he'll be a good president.

I KNOW Lauren will be a good...stander...?

This is going nowhere.



Are you still here?

Wish me luck. I've lost all brainpower after yesterday's baby-girl-love-fest. When I start talking politics...well, it's just time for me to stop talking.

These Girls

It's going by too fast! Mia's over 3 now, and Lauren is getting closer to her first birthday every minute. What?!

Mia's big on dictating our conversations. Like, "Mama would you say..." and then she tells me my line. Of course I oblige. It's too cute not too, and she's usually in such a good mood when she's 'directing' that the things she wants said are sweet. Lately, she loves to draw comparisons between Lauren and herself. "Mama would you say, one girl is big and one girl is little? Would you say it Mama?" One girl has piggy-tails, and one girl has not very much hair. One girl is running, and one girl is crawling. One girl is has a pink blankie, one girl has a purple blankie.

This all started when Lauren was very young, just a few months, and I was trying to show Mia that I had room for both of my girls, no matter how similar or different they are. I'd catch myself telling Lauren how much I loved her, and Mia would be standing right there, loving her too, but I'd get nervous that Mia would become jealous. So, for a while there, I told Mia something good about herself every time I said something good about Lauren.

Mia hasn't ever shown an ounce of jealousy in that direction -beyond the first few weeks of having a new baby in the house - she just seems to accept Lauren's place in our family without hesitation. She loves her little sister. And it's fun for her to notice these differences, while hopefully learning a lesson about accepting others no matter what they look like or are capable of.

I don't feel grown up enough to have kids, much less, kids who are as sweet as these girls are.

I took this picture of Mia today when we were on the way to my parents' house, and I love several things about it. I love that Mia has her sunglasses on upside down because they fall off if they're on right. I love the smile on her face and the sun shining through her fine hair. I love how huge her eyes are behind the glasses.

But, I think my favorite part of this picture is that in the lense of the sunglasses, I can see Lauren's reflection. One girl is facing forward, one girl is facing backward. One girl is cheesing for the camera, and one girl is playing with a toy. Both girls are happy. Both girls are precious.

Both girls are mine.

A conversation...

that could be overheard in the busy greeting card section of Target this morning:

Me: Mia, stay close to me, sweetie.

Mia: 'I'm singing...singing...I don't know...it's just trouble...nahneenahnee...I think I am...'

Me: Mia, do you like this card for your friend?

Mia: 'Nahnee...tea...a drop of olden some....'

Me: Mia, stop singing for a minute and answer my question please.

Mia: Mama, I....I NEED TO GO POO POO!

Me: (Hustling her away from the stares.) Where did your daddy go?

The Hickey

When I wrote last week about my new haircut and Justin's grandfather, it brought back all kinds of memories from those early years with Justin. Some of them were sweet and romantic, reminding me of why I began to love him all those years ago. Others were funny and embarrassing.

This is one of the latter. And being one of my few memories about Gramps, I am grateful for it. Yes, I just said I was grateful for an embarrassing moment. (Is it snowing in H-E-double hockey sticks?) (If it's this cold here, surely it's near freezing there.)

(Don't you love parenthesis?)

This particular memory happened on the same day that Gramps saw my million-dollar haircut. He was in the hospital in Wichita, and we had come for a weekend visit.

A few days before this visit, I gave Justin a -gasp- hickey as a joke. He told me he'd never had one before and neither had I. Nor had either of us ever given one. Chaos ensued, with us wrestling to try to mark the other with an ugly hickey. I won (probably because Justin was laughing too hard at my lack of strength; I sure showed him!) and placed a lone bruise on the back of his shoulder.

Somehow, his mom noticed it one day when he was getting dressed, and he told her it was from a soccer accident. Believable, huh? Isn't it really common for a large round soccer ball to leave a small round bruise on a shoulder bone?

So, that weekend we left for Wichita. My hickey was still very noticeable...I had no idea they lasted that long. While we were talking with Gramps, the subject turned to Justin's soccer team, and how much time he spent playing or practicing. We were just trying to keep the conversation on light topics, and Gramps had always been proud of Justin's athletic abilities.

I could almost feel it coming...soccer...bruises...hickies...oh...no....

I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but, hi? Have you met me? Small talk and I do not mix well.

Before I knew it, Justin's mom said, "Just look at this terrible bruise he got from his last game..." and quickly lifted his shirt all the way up to his shoulder.

There sat the hickey. I think its color was heightened by the reflection from my shining red face.

Gramps, without missing a beat, chuckled and said, "That's no bruise...That's a LOVE BITE!"

Oh, it's funny now. But all I could think at the time was, "this poor old man must think his grandson has gotten involved with a trashy...hickey-giver!" I wanted to yell, "NO! It was just a joke! I swear!" But, hi again? Do you know me? All the blood gets diverted to my cheeks in times like these, so my brain is left without knowing one measly sensible word to utter.

I think I sweated through my shirt all the way down to my elbows before the subject finally, blessedly, was changed.

No more hickies for us, thanks. I don't recommend them at all.

Too Cold To Think

It's frrrreeezing. Too cold for humans, too cold for smiles, too cold for walking 10 steps to a building from your car.

It is only 7 degrees right now. Roughly 65 degrees south of where I'm comfortable. Dad? If you're reading this in San Diego? Stay there! You'd cry it's so cold...but then your tears would freeze by the time they reached your beard, and you'd turn right back around and buy a plane ticket back to California. The wind chill is 6 below - it bites at your skin.

This morning, both girls were covered in multiple blankets in the car (which was in the garage to start with) and the heater still wasn't up to snuff by the time we reached Mia's preschool. Lauren is far too heavy to be carried in her car seat any longer, but I didn't want to risk taking her out of it and letting the cold air touch her. So I hauled her into the building with a blanket tucked all around her, including her face.

This is where my superhuman mom-strength showed up, because Mia clung to me for warmth when I lifted her out of the car; she wouldn't let go of my neck, and I ended up carrying both of them into the building. I do that a lot (Dear Back Muscles: Thank you and I'm sorry.) but usually just with one girl in each arm. The car seat adds a whole 'nother level of balance and contorting in order to heave it along beside me.

I think, though, that I was clinging to Mia's warmth as much as she was to mine.

At least it's not as cold here as it was in Glenwood, Minnesota this morning. I read here that their wind chill was 54 below. Huh? I can't even register that temperature.

Anyway, stay warm where you are, or if you are warmer than us...enjoy it!

Starring Evelyn Joy

A Tale of Two Cousins: Lauren Invites Evie to Bathtime

LJ: Hey Evie! I'm so glad you're here to play!
EJ: Me too! What are you looking at?
LJ: Mom has the coolest toy over there, but it looks
like I won't be able to get my hands on it.
EJ: Then what'll we do for fun instead?

LJ: Never mind, cuz. I'll show you the ropes around here.
EJ: Grrrr...

LJ: First, I'd like to play with that gorgeous hair of yours.
Where'd ya get that from, huh?
EJ: Well it probably came from my mom, her
hair's a lot nicer than your mom's

EJ: Hey! I was totally kidding!! Yeesh.
LJ: Sorry about that...can I still play with your hair anyway?
EJ: Sure, I'll just check out your awesome diaper while you're busy.
Is that cookie monster? Lucky!!

LJ: Yeah, once you go up to size 3, the cartoon characters get really cool.
EJ: Grrrr....
LJ: Listen, girlfriend, you gotta tell your mom to stop
with the KY on your head...the residue is killer. Plus, you're like, what?
7 months old now? KY is for babies.


EJ: Yeah, mom sometimes even wipes my face with a
napkin that she licked. Parents...so lame.
LJ: Tell me about it! My mom insists on making me wear
sissie's old clothes. But...I can't even walk yet...whatayagonnado?
EJ: Grrrr...


LJ: Why do you keep growling at me?! Stop it!
EJ: Hey! I'm just speaking a different language than you,
it's no big deal! I said, 'I couldn't agree more.'


LJ: Ooohhhh....well you gotta teach it to me! We could
have our own secret language together! Our mom's would be
soooo clueless!
EJ: Grrrr....
LJ: Was that...did you say you wanted to play with some toys now?


EJ: That's right! You are as smart as your mom says!
LJ: Aawww...(blushes)...Thanks Evie! You're the
smart one for coming up with your own language!
Whadayasay we go take a bath and get that KY outta
your gorgeous hair?
EJ: Grrr...OOOOoouuhh.


EJ: I've never been in a tub without a special seat for myself before.
This is way cool!
LJ: You're doing great! Plus, you get to sit by my big sister.
She's so awesome...you should see her get her way with
mom and dad.


EJ: Uhhh...I think I'm about ready to get out...I'd hate to pee
in your bathwater.
LJ: No prob, cuz! I just peed a minute ago...

THE END

The Perfect Toddler

Since Lauren was born, I try not to go places with both girls that would cause undue pain and suffering for all three of us. So, no driver's license bureau's, no quiet libraries, no busy department stores without carts. I know these things can be done, and - someday- will be done by me, I just don't want to try them yet. We still go places just to get out of the house, but those places are limited by my reluctance to cause a scene. We save those places for the weekend or daddy's vacation, when Justin's available to assist (Read: corral the 3 year old).

This morning, I was hesitant to go to Kohl's to return a broken Christmas gift. Lauren would need to eat soon, but she's generally easy going and doesn't get too upset by slightly late mealtimes or naptimes. The thing I was worried about, was that Mia would have to stay put...right by my side, because there aren't carts for her to ride in. Or, if there were, I'd be pushing a stroller and a cart, and that wouldn't mesh well with my lack of: a. strength, and b. coordination.

Staying put is not the usual reaction that Mia has in malls and stores. See it from her standpoint: wide open spaces, colorful items around every corner, smiling strangers to flirk with...it's like an amusement park for a toddler.

We've been "training" her for months now (years, really, but it's only become completely necessary since LJ was born) to stay close to us, or hold on to our hands, coats, pants, whatever. So instead of putting off the errand until next weekend when Justin's off work, I looked at this as another training opportunity. 10:00 Monday morning isn't a busy time, in fact, it was my best bet for having a calm trip.

When we got there, I told Mia what was expected of her, as usual. (No screaming, no fit throwing, no hiding, um...no embarrassing statements at the top of your lungs about boogers and such.) And she did amazingly well. She was the perfect child. Sweet, silly, obedient, joyful, and all around wonderful.

The store was nearly deserted, so I wasn't panicking about her being more than 2 steps away from me. She wanted to run, so I let her. She skipped thru the aisles, peeking over her shoulder to make sure I was appreciating her cuteness. Telling me, "mama, would you say 'you're going so fast Mia!' ?" The employees that were clustered at an intersection fawned over her giggles and bouncing pigtails (all three times we passed them). Whenever she got too far from me, or we needed to stop at a specific place, she did exactly as I asked, not complaining once.

She ran off tons of early morning energy; it was as good as the park, I'd argue. When we got back in the car, I made sure to tell her how wonderful her behavior was, telling her how much fun I had with her sweet self. If this is what happens when I step outside my comfort zone, I should really do it more often.

It was the perfect morning, followed by a perfect lunch. Not a bite-battle in sight. And I wonder where these mornings come from? Why one day, but not the next? Is it a 3 year-old thing, or just this 3 year-old's thing. Please tell me all 3 year-old have these different faces. Please tell me the joyful, obedient, sweet face starts happening more and more often as she gets older.

At least until she's a pre-teen, when I probably will have to bribe her to go shopping with me.

But this morning, her face was a reflection of all the best things we've ever seen from her. I could barely keep from stopping her just to inhale her scent as she ran cirlces around me.

What a precious girl. It makes me wonder...what huge part of my heart was waiting empty before my children were born? I never knew it was there. Now, I'd stop breathing without it.

Nannie-nannie-boo-boo

I'm not crazy after all. My friend Jill, the most beautiful pastor in the world, said so. Or, she could at least see my point. But then again she's been hearing my deep dark secrets for a while now, so they no longer surprise (frighten?) her.

Last week, I held my breath, and squinched my eyes shut, and started the car in the garage while Lauren was napping. I needed to go grocery shopping with Mia while my mom baby-sat, so I had to do it.

My mom (by her own admission...I wouldn't make this up.) said that Lauren woke up right when I left. It wasn't a usual time for her to wake up, either. Coincidence? I think not. She really isn't a light sleeper, for the most part. Our house isn't quiet during the day, by any definition. The garage is just too loud, that's all there is to it.

Then again later in the week, Justin took the trash out early in the morning, opening our loud-as-a-wild-beast-garage-door in the process. You think Lauren slept through it?

Nope.

I rest my case.

Well, probably not. I never really rest my case. I talk it to death first, over-think it, and just abuse it in general. So I rest it...for a few minutes anyway.

I'll get around to the point...bear with me

I only met Justin's grandfather a handful of times before he passed away several years ago. Justin and I had been dating for almost a year, but since Gramps was sick during most of that time, we didn't get to know each other much. I assume he heard as much about me as I heard about him.

The few times we spoke, he showed himself to be a clever jokester who loved his grandson beyond compare. He was proud of Justin, taking pleasure in our new relationship and teasing us freely about young love. The first day I met him, he held his arms open wide, singing a warbled rendition of "Here she comes...Miss America!" Justin was embarrassed to be ratted out for having gushed over me enough for Gramps to sing about it.

The second or third time we met, he was in the hospital, and I had just gotten a new haircut. I had been trying to grow my hair out for quite some time, but finally gave up and cut it down to a comfortable length. Gramps used to cut hair when he was younger, so he noticed right off. He told me it looked "a million times better! Don't ever let it get that long again!" Then he proceeded to embarrass Justin and me about something or other. (Gramps liked to keep Justin on his toes. I imagine he and my own grandpa would have gotten along perfectly.)

On Gramps's advice, I kept my hair short for a very long time. It wasn't hard to do; I've always preferred my hair short. But as the years passed, I kept thinking, "maybe it will look good long?" So I tried it a few times with awful results. Each time it got long again, I was reminded that it just didn't look good.

But my memory is ever hopeful. And this last time I grew it out, it wasn't so much because I wanted long hair, as that I didn't have time (or the desire to make time) to get it cut. My last haircut was just before Lauren was born, over 9 months ago. Constant breastfeeding, naps, meals, grocery shopping, preschool, holidays, dinner to make, house to clean, and the hair salon is only open certain hours...it just wasn't in my cards. I did the same thing after Mia was born.

So I tried to convince myself that it looked good. When, really? It was terrible. Stringy, staticky, flippy, terrible. Even Mia noticed a few nights ago. We were playing and wrestling around when she said, "Mama! You have too much hair!"

It just happened that my mom was on vacation this week, and there was an opening at the salon right at naptime.

Bingo.

I got a haircut. And Gramps was right: it's a million times better.

You look like a monkey, and you smell like one too!

Happy birthday, Brother!



You're such an old man now! I hope you have a wonderful birthday full of old man things, like naps, early dinners, and frequent bathroom breaks. Enjoy!

Love,
Your little sister

What I love about...

Pot Roast. And I absolutely do love it, in all it's non-fancy, down-home goodness.

1. Beef or Pork. I get a choice. Awesome.

2. Rosemary. Mmmmm....rosemary. Sorry, Mom. It must be a genetic fluke.

3. The house smells perfect. Kinda like rosemary.

4. The sound when I gently place the meat in the hot pan to be seared. And by gently place, I mean throw from afar. I have a bad habit of over-heating the oil while getting the veggies ready, so I stand far back to avoid searing myself as well.

5. Roasted Veggies that taste like the meat they were roasted with. Who invented this stuff, anyway? It's perfect.

6. It's pretty much fool proof. Speaking as a fool, I know this to be true. It only took 2 phone calls to my mom for her free advice. Which I'm sure, had I asked, would have included, "for the love of everything, don't add rosemary." I did not ask.

7. My afternoon is free to play with the girls, while I become intoxicated from the smell of rosemary.

8. Leftovers. Burritos, Soup, Stir-Fry, Chimichangas...so economical.

9. Mia eats it. WILLINGLY. (As I write this, my fingers, legs, and eyes are crossed. Knock on wood where you are.)

10. I'd like it even if I had no rosemary. I guess.



PS...Vegetarians? Please don't get sick on your computer. I can't afford your repair bills. Just insert the word "tofu" as needed. Is there such thing as roasted tofu?

I heart laundry

What's the only thing that could make this awful pile of clean laundry bearable?


Enjoyable to fold, even? The season premier of The Bachelor. God Bless reality TV. And God Bless Justin for busying himself on the computer, instead of mocking the show all night.

It's time to hide the cat food...

Because Lauren is crawling! Army crawling, really. Sweeping my floors.

It's a double-sided achievement, from my viewpoint. I have been looking forward to her being able to move around the house independently because she just looks so sad and lonely if we all leave the room without her, even for just a minute. This will provide hours of exploration and discovery fun (see above mentioned cat food).

But...you know what the "but" is right? The dust bunnies will be searched out and tasted, the crunchy pea leftover from a dinner some days ago and lost under the table, will be found by a mouthy little girl. I'll have to be careful again with what's left laying around - and this time, there's much more laying around than there was when Mia became mobile.

Now there's tiny Barbie shoes, little hair rubber bands, and I'm not completely into the baby-proofing mindset yet.

At least there's no kitty litter in the house this time around. That's a terrifying thought.

And also...about Lauren? She's a genius. She's become so good at trying to imitate sounds and actions that I'm convinced she's smarter than the average baby. Not your baby of course, who is, I presume, quite talented and intelligent as well.

The other day, when I was trying to keep Lauren's attention on breastfeeding instead of on her sister's silly antics, I covered her eyes with my hand and started playing peek-a-boo. She loved it, and kept nursing for a few minutes longer while I entertained.

The next morning while she was nursing, I had my eyes closed to preserve the last few minutes of dozing. So I didn't see what she was doing so much as feel it. I felt her little hand go up to her face...then away...then she smiled. And she repeated it. I looked down just in time to see her trying to get my attention by playing peek-a-boo. It was puh-recious. (It seems that most of my favorite motherhood moments happen while breastfeeding.)

Now, she still tries to play peek-a-boo with me at random times during the day. Only, she sometimes forgets that her eyes are the goal for her hands, and ends up covering her left cheek and right ear, or her right temple and left ear. Again: puh-recious.

I think she'd catch on really quickly to baby sign language if I tried to teach her. But there's the catch: I'd have to commit to learning sign language.

This probably won't happen. (It's either baby-proof the house, or sign. See? I'm prioritizing.) At least I have the consolation of peek-a-boo.

Recommended Dosage?

I'm the kind of girl who doesn't like to take much medicine. I balk at a doctor's recommendation of antibiotics. I'd rather just go to sleep if a headache is in progress close to bed time. The idea of all those extra foreign chemicals in my body makes me hold out as long as possible to break down and take something. (Strangely enough, I lovingly consume lots and lots of processed foods - but that's neither here nor there.)

My approach to medication for the kids is somewhat restrained as well. If Mia has a low fever but is still playing happily, I don't necessarily give her anything. I figure, the fever is doing a job so I'll let it work uninterrupted unless I see a change.

So Mia doesn't have medicine too terribly often...however...she loves it. No matter how sick she is, she always smiles when we're pouring the syrupy stuff into her mouth.

Over the past couple of weeks, whenever she'd been complaining of a headache or a tummy ache, it was hard to tell what the problem was so I wasn't sure what to do about medicine. Surely she wouldn't pretend to be ill; I couldn't see why she'd make it up. I hated to give her medicine not knowing if it was warranted.

But the more she complained of a headache over the course of one day, the more I thought she probably needed some medicine.

Mistake #1: I told her, "We'll get you some Tylenol to make you feel better." She was so excited, I swore she'd planned it. Her eyes fairly glowed with anticipation (maybe I shouldn't hold out on sweets so often?). But is a 3 year old capable of such deception? She got the Tylenol, and acted more chipper for the rest of the day. Running naked, pushing her sister over...you know...chipper.

Mistake #2: The next day she talked about her head hurting again...and I gave her Tylenol again. But this time I saw no outward signs that anything had changed. She still complained, and was grumpy in general. This may or may not have been a sign of sickness, as grumpiness is as common as preciousness with her.

After that whenever she said her head hurt, I just told her it'd feel better soon, and she stopped saying it eventually. I realized I never should have told her the part about Tylenol making you feel better. She knows I want her to feel better, right? She knows how to get the desired dosage, right? So from now on, I guess I'll just give her medicine without saying anything about why.

But it's really too late for that. Mia's figured out how to get what she wants, and has kept trying hard to achieve her Tylenol-goal.

Last night, we were getting her ready for bed, and she blurted out "I want some...!" Then she stopped, with her mouth hanging open thoughtfully before backtracking to say, "I have a head-y-ache, Mama, do you think I want some Tylenol?" Her cute little head was tilted to the side; if she were a puppy, her ears would've been cocked.

I held my ground. No Tylenol for the little trickster.

From the "Better late than never" files

Mia got Christmas Eve started by putting on the Christmas dress she'd been begging to wear for weeks. I really should've let her wear it sooner, to justify what it cost. But it was special this way, since she'd been looking forward to it. She wore it all day, and chose some particularly stylish socks:


Just FYI, my house isn't really that messy. I strategically placed those key items to imitate a "chaotic holiday" effect. Looks natural, huh? I'll come to your house and set up backgrounds for your photos, too. For a small fee, of course.

That night after church, we went to Aunt Sherry's house for the real chaos to begin. I always love it when the entire family is together, and Christmas Eve was no exception. It was tons of fun. Lauren tried not to get lost among the wrapping paper, while Mia tried on her new tu-tu. (Too-Too?? Tuu-Tuu?? Muu-muu?? Froot Loop?? Wha..??)


Mia handed out hugs as needed to thank everyone for their gifts. She loves her Aunt Joy!



On Christmas morning, we had the Grandparents over for breakfast. Mia was so tuckered out from the night before, that we had to wake her up at 8:30 so we could open presents. How badly do I wish I could sleep in until 8:30? Or not; maybe I'd feel like the world had stopped spinning or something.

The girls both enjoyed the company and their gifts. Mia was really excited about her Madeline doll - Thanks Grandma Sue! The dollhouse that daddy stayed up late assembling? She wasn't too concerned with. At least it doubles as a bookshelf, so we have someplace to store all the presents. This is always the hardest part of Christmas for me: finding places to keep the new stuff. Geez, what troubles we endure.



Later, we went to Nana & Grandpa-Pie's house, where I took exactly zero pictures. Imagine: more presents, more wrapping paper, Eric, Emily, and Evie Joy, two proud grandparents, spaghetti lunch, naps on the couch.

It was a wonderful holiday.

Resolutions

Hope you had a Happy New Year! Our eve was quiet...and perfect. I've been getting too little sleep lately (what with toddler nightmares and sickness) and the prospect of staying up until midnight on purpose wasn't too appealing this year. I feel old.

So we just stayed in and watched a movie. I told Justin to not even try to wake me up for a midnight kiss. He'd probably have ended up with a midnight elbow to the ribs.

We did decide to come up with some resolutions though, so our New Year's celebration wasn't totally forsaken. Now, in writing these down, I'm hoping to be able to follow through. Not that they're too difficult - I'm just lazy.

Here they are:

1. Floss my teeth every day. Justin mocks me with his good flossing habits. I must keep up.

2. Update the checkbook, and pay bills weekly. I get behind too often, and it's getting out of hand. Surely if I'm old enough to skip the midnight ball-drop, I'm old enough to be consistent with bills and the checkbook.

3. This one is a joint-resolution with Justin. We'll clean up the kitchen every night after the kids are in bed. Hallelujah, glory-be. I LOVE that he's willing to help. This one has my name written all over it. I am a stay-at-home mom, after all - I should be able to do this myself. But...but...see above...I'm lazy. And it's just so much more enjoyable as a team. Isn't this a great selling point for marriage? To have a handsome man help clean the kitchen?

4. Get a haircut. Preferably on a regularly recurring basis. Preferably starting soon.

There. Now, help a girl out. What are your resolutions? There's still time to add more to my list if some of yours are better.

Have a great weekend!