Marrying Mal

A few weeks ago, Mal was asking me if his cousin's son was his in-law. I told him no, he doesn't have any in-laws. He was pretty bummed by it, and I explained that he wouldn't have in-laws until he got married. He thought about it for a few moments, then said, "If, in the future, I married Kona, then you'd be her mother-in-law! And her mom would be my mother-in-law."

He was pretty excited about the idea, and that was that.

Until a few days later... 

We'd been at a homeschool gathering, and on the way home, Mal said, "Mom, you know how I've been thinking about the future? Well, Kona has another friend who was thinking about marrying her."

Then the next time we saw them, Mal told me, "His name is Andy. The one who wants to marry Kona. I hope he changes his mind."

I said, "Well, actually it's up to Kona who she marries."

Then next time, after we left, Mal was musing, "I really do hope Kona chooses me." I said, "Mal, you have a lot of time to figure that out." He shook his head and asked, "Mom, have you ever heard that kids grow up quickly?" I tried not to laugh, instead explaining that literally, it was at least eleven years before he could legally get married.

Then after all of that time, earlier this week, we came back to Urban Air for the first time in months (Delta variant is waning). Mal met a girl and played with her for a couple of hours. When she left, Mal came over to me and whispered, "I have a secret that she told me not to tell you... We went and got another piece of candy from the front desk when no one was looking." 

I laughed at that and asked, "Did you tell her we don't care what you eat?" Mal said, "No. But I have another secret." Still whispering in my ear, "You know how Kona has someone else who wants to marry her? I can marry this friend instead." "Do you know her name?" He did not. He ran after to ask, but Urban Air is really loud.

And they all lived happily ever after.

This tooth NEEDS TO COME OUT.

Mal Adjustments

This weekend, Mal was doing something funny/irritating and I jokingly told him never ever to do it again. He immediately repeated it, and I said, "That's it. You're fired. You can't be in the house anymore; you're going to have to live on the streets." Alarmed, he immediately wailed, "But I can't live on the streets; I'll get hit by a car! Can I live in the grass?"

Then he decided that the grass would also be a bad choice because once the grass dries out later in the spring, we get stickers that last until the fall. I assured him that he can live wherever we live as long as he wants, and even if I joke about kicking him out, I never will.

He had a very "opinionated" weekend, and he tends to voice his negative opinions with much sturm und drang. A couple of times, I had to ask him to just stop what he was doing because I couldn't handle it anymore. At one point, I asked him to stop whining, and he whined, "I'm not whining! This is my normal voice!"

Later, he'd wanted to go to the lake. He introduced his idea by saying, "It's the perfect day to go to the lake!" And he was right. It was in the low 70s and full sun. Again, one of the perks of living in the Austin area.

These days, we're all Sonic all the time.

When it was time to come home, he was suddenly very exhausted. He wanted me to carry him... which, thank goodness, I can no longer do, and he's big enough to understand this.

As we walked away from the park, he kept whimpering that he was so tired, and he couldn't stand to walk all the way home, and he needed a short cut. After a couple of blocks of this, I said, "I need you to stop complaining. We have to walk home, it's a beautiful day, and I don't want to hear complaining the whole way." He insisted he wasn't complaining, similarly to how he'd said he wasn't whining.

I started just stopping in my tracks when he'd start back up. "Oh my gosh, this is taking forev--" Then he'd notice I wasn't moving. After a few times of this, he said, "Mom, I'm NOT complaining! That was someone else!"

Eventually, we got to the top of the hill and he took his shirt off (we'd dressed in the morning when it was cooler, and ended up being inappropriately warmly dressed for the middle of the day) and once he could see our house, he perked back up.

Drama aside, Mal got a lot of vitamin D last week. It was gorgeous and we spent a lot of time outside.

I want Mal to feel comfortable talking about his feelings, even the really big ugly ones. I just need to help him understand when a situation is immutable and he just has to plow through it... preferably, for his own sake, with a good attitude. It's a tough one. Wish us all luck!

"The Talk" (But Not That One)

MAL: When I'm a grown-up, I'm still going to go to Urban Air.

ME: Cool! Grown-ups like to jump on trampolines, too. You always see them at Altitude and Jump Street.

MAL: When I'm a grown-up and I go to Jump Street, I'm still going to use Earthquake only.

ME: Well, you can do the bounce houses, but you can't do the trampolines once you're taller than 48 inches.

MAL: (bursts into tears) I don't want to get taller! I hate changes! Changes are terrible!

ME: Changes can be difficult, but change can be really good.

MAL: No! If you love me, you'll say that change is bad.

ME: I can't say that all change is just bad.

MAL: Then you don't love me!

ME: I love you a whole lot, but I also appreciate change. For instance, if it weren't for changes, I'd still be married to D's dad, and your dad and I wouldn't have gotten married, and we wouldn't have you!

MAL: (hollering in grief) I wish dads didn't even exist!!!

ME: What? Why?!

MAL: So I could marry you!

ME: I love you, but you couldn't marry me, anyway. It's against the law for parents and their children to marry. Do you know what getting married means?

MAL: *noncommittal mumbling*

ME: It means that you find someone who's not already part of your family, and you say, "We're going to be together forever and be a family." And you got born into our family, so we'll be together forever, anyway!

I have no idea how these conversations get from Point A to where they end up. The night before, I was cleaning up the kitchen while Mal stood beside me with his computer, wailing about something hypothetical that had saddened him. I literally said, "What is happening? I don't understand what is going on here" about six times, but I think it probably fifteen times a day.

Well, That's Embarrassing

You're about to get a peek into how my brain works, so just allow me to apologize in advance for any permanent damage done to your own psyche. It's a stream-of-conscience thing, so if it doesn't connect thematically for you, don't worry about it.

1) The other day, I realized that I am the same age as a guy I dated when I was 25. Oh my gosh, I can't even. I have girlfriends in their 20s (some with kids the same age as my younger) and it strikes me as ridiculous every time I realize I'm literally old enough to be their mother. So *dating* someone two decades younger? "Be'er not."

2) One of the things this guy would say to me when he was frustrated was, "You're so immature!" To which I'd say, "I'm twenty years younger than you! What'd you expect?!"

3) In my early days working for Terra West Property Management, they rented out space at a restaurant/bar for us to have snacks and karaoke. For some reason, I thought it'd be really cool to sing "Hanky Panky" by Madonna. It'd be a very inappropriate song for all-ages karaoke, but it was just an adult thing, and this is one of the few female recordings with which I, an contralto, can actually sing. Anyway, I had sung it over and over during my commute (I guess I had the "I'm Breathless" CD? I don't remember that at all.) I was super excited, and on the drive over, this same guy was nervous about my enthusiasm. "Am I going to be embarrassed?"

4) He wasn't. I was awesome. And I should have broken up with him then and there because what a condescending killjoy. But I digress.

5) I've embarrassed pretty much everyone with whom I've been in a relationship. 

6) My ex-husband was constantly telling me I was talking too loud. My high energy about many things irritated him. And let's not get started on my 20th year high school reunion where I memorized a five-minute dance scene from Hairspray and recreated it while literally no one else danced. He wouldn't even look directly at me. Also, in this instance, my friend's husband said to my ex, "That's your wife up there. I'm glad it's not my wife." 

7) If I'd been married to James and he'd been there, he would have stood up on a table and hollered approvingly the whole time.

8) James has never been embarrassed by me.

9) That is incredibly freeing, and it's crazy how amazing it is to be able to be myself without worrying that someone is going to be ashamed to be affiliated with me.

This is where I should end this but, alas, something happened last night that changes things slightly.

We'd taken a late-night (not really, but it's getting dark so early now, it felt late) trip to HEB. I'd planned to go alone, but as I was walking out the door, Mal decided he needed to go, and so did his dad. After a crazy trip around the store gathering supplies for the week, we were finally done with check-out and Buddy Bucks and had made it back to the car. We were putting things in the trunk when James helpfully pulled my purse out of the cart. I yelled, "Stop! Thief!" and he glanced around to see if anyone were around to hear or take me seriously. I gasped, telling him that he'd ruined his perfect run.

But I still think it's pretty good.

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I watched this video about 500 times in the 4 weeks leading up to the reunion. It's really hard to view it and not just be incredibly happy and optimistic. 

More Stuff Mal Said...

There is a dark cloud hanging over my head right now, and I wish it'd go away. I know it's circumstantial: a mix of hormones, issues my immediate and extended family are having that don't directly affect me but that I bear because I care about them, and then some personal disappointment today when something I'd really been looking forward to doing didn't pan out.

So.

To combat that, I'm going to share some stuff that Mal has said lately. It's like his vocabulary just went from nothing to every word in the universe all at once. That, plus now when he wakes up from a deep sleep, it takes him a while to transition, but he's still super verbal so will often say things that don't make sense or that are impossible.

For instance, he'd taken a rare nap yesterday, and the first time he woke from that, he woke up asking me to "fix it" an pointing vaguely at his leg. When I asked him what he wanted me to do, he said, "Pull that. Mommy, you can. Push it!" Then when I asked again what he wanted, he said, "I need batteries." I asked, "You do? For what?" He said, "My neck!" and pointed toward his throat. I laughed so hard at that, and so did he. Then he fell back to sleep. When he woke up the next time, it was to report that someone had stolen his books.

Last night, he woke up at one point asking for a dragon sucker. I told him we didn't have one, and he started crying. "Mommy, get one!" I told him I would. He said, "I want it now." So I said, "Okay. Here it is." Then he said, "I don't want that one. I want a Paw Patrol sucker." Then we had to start over with my staying we didn't have it.

When we were out today, Mal was very sad that I wouldn't plough more quarters into some machine he wanted, after having paid $8 for him to play in the "bounce park" where he refuses to go into the inflatables at all, because the ambient noise scares him.

Anyway, we'd gone into the restroom (still waiting for him to use the toilet in public; nothing so far) and he was bawling, complete with snot running down his face. He never likes for me to wipe his nose, and this time as I went at him, he said, "No! I just want to cry!" "You can cry!" I assured him. "No, I can't. You wipe it off!"

Oh, and last night he woke up, upside down and hanging half off of the bed, so I grabbed him up to reposition him. At that, he yelled, "No! No! MOMMY!" I said, "Sweetie, I *am* Mommy." "NO! Mommy! Not you!" I said, "Mommy has you, sweetie." Then I kissed him on the head. He softly cooed, "Aww, Mommy."

Last night, we'd driven out to see the sunset from Sunset Deck. In the picture above, Mal is telling me, "The dinosaurs are coming!" I guess dusk ushers them in?

Mal's latest interests involve: using tools to play with Play-Doh, playing "dirt" with his marbles and "instruction" trucks, and "driving" around the house in his "car" asking, "What's the problem?" and wanting us to give him something to fix.

There is more, but Mal has been asleep for almost five hours already, so I need to go to sleep NOW to prepare for the inevitable pre-dawn wake-up. *yawn* Did I mention that I'm 45 now? Not surprisingly, the frat boy schedule of a toddler is not getting easier as I "mature." But, goodness, what a fun age.

Updates... from another dimension!

I have a few random things to share here, starting with this most amazing one:

Yesterday, during the eclipse, I suppose some kind of weird time/space wormholey thing opened up and sent my shirt from 13 years ago into Mal's closet. I don't have timestamps, but am including pictures with my Pepa and D to show just how long ago I had this shirt. It must have shrunk during the time travel. But there it is.

Item the Next:
The weekend before last, during the children's message, Mary asked the kids, "What's something good you can tell me about your week?" A couple of kids answered, things like feeding their pets or getting some neat trading cards. Usually, Mal kind of tries to say something when it's his "turn," but is usually just silly or shy. But this time, he said, "I helped my mommy in the kitchen." So that's a notable first! He answered a group query appropriately.

He does help all of the time. If I get out the vacuum to clean up, he pulls out the carpet cleaner, pulls off every removable part, and "vacuums" as well. If I sweep, he pulls out the Swiffer and shoves my pile around. He even helps by being an encouragement. This weekend when I was spot-mowing (read: half of our back yard), he followed me around saying, "Mommy, you a good worker!" And, yeah, our lawn mower is electric, so I could hear him.

New topic:
I had a sort of epiphany this week. There are quite a few popular sites, like Stimtastic and ARK, that sell "chewable" toys. D has several, as well as some fidget toys. I've written about this in the past, but a now-subconscious habit I have had basically since I stopped sucking my thumb at the age of 5 is chewing on my fingers. I am not aware that I do it, but like sometimes I'll pick up my phone and can't do the fingerprint recognition because my fingertip is wet. And I have callouses on four fingers. It's truly weird, because if you ask me to stick my finger in my mouth and show you what I do, I really can't. It feels awkward. But obviously I do it.

I think it's likely that I have an oral fixation, which is one likely reason I start to panic (on a fairly low level) if I don't have something to drink, and that I use that oral stimulation as a way to deal with deep thought or stress. So my epiphany was: If these items had been around when I was a kid, might my hands be worthy of manicures today?

When I mentioned this to D, my rather astute teenager said, "It's never too late to start." That's true, but I can't imagine what mental gymnastics I'd have to do to switch, since, as I mentioned, I don't know I'm doing it, often until afterwards.

But also, I'm very glad for kids (and adults!) that there's more to address the issue than just, "Put your hands down!" "You're so pretty when you're not gnawing on that finger." "You're too big to do that." Ad infinitum.

Final entry:
Literally every day, at least once and often two or three times, my son will lift up my shirt and lay with his belly to mine, perpendicular, announcing, "Mommy, I love you body." Other times, he'll just rub my stomach and be so sweet, cooing, "Mommy, you body is hot." And every stinking time, it makes my day. I mean, I know he means that I'm warmer than he is (since I wear clothes), but it's still nice to hear.

I have other thoughts on that, but will end for tonight. Mostly because I want to play a game before head to bed. Night, all!

Speaking with Mal

Here are a few snippets from conversations with my son this morning, in the space of about 2 hours:

MAL: Eww. Earwax.
ME: Yummy!
MAL: No! Earwax is gross. Boogers are yummy!

Later, Mal handed me something that looked like a seed.
MAL: What's this?
ME: (realizing it wasn't hard-shelled) Um, did it come out of your butt?
MAL: Yes.
ME: Then I think it's poop.
MAL: Not, it not.

MAL: Mommy, deedees!
ME: Sweetie, there's not any left.
MAL: I just need two deedees!
ME: We already did two.
MAL: I just need five deedees.
ME:...
MAL: They're not tired! They're just closed! Right there!!

Permanent mood

And here's a bonus conversation with that child's dad, many many hours later.

ME: Good morning! Are you hungry?
JAMES: Yes.
ME: What sounds good?
JAMES: You want to do that thing you mentioned? With the pies and the cheese and the video games?
ME: Um, no. You can't do Chuck E. Cheese on the weekend unless you get there right when it opens.
JAMES: Is it too late for that?
ME: What time do you think it is?
JAMES: About 8?
ME: It's 20 'til 1.
JAMES: Wow. Thank you.

I think we can all agree I'm the best wife. I don't think I've ever even made a honey-do list. :)

Have an entertaining weekend, people!

Mini-Update

Last night, I was writing my previous blog post out on the porch, enjoying the sunset and sounds of Texas summer. I'd invited Mal to come out with me, but he was watching videos in the floor of our bedroom.

Anyway, at a little bit after 9, Mal opened the back door and said, annoyed, "Mommy! I'm TIRED!" I asked him if he wanted me to help him go to bed, and he said yes.

We came in, and, of course, nursed for a few minutes, then he said, "I want to go outside now." I have to admit, part of me was like, "What? I thought it was bedtime!" but I went back out with him, and at that point it was pretty much dark. We looked at stars, he looked for fireflies (I guess it's too late for them now), and he desperately wanted to see a shooting star.

We started hearing a very high-pitched whinny, which sounded kind of like a cartoon version of a little pony. Maybe it was a baby fox? Or a bird? Anyway, Mal decided it was a horse, and it kind of freaked him out. He wanted to come in before the horse got us.

I actually had him sit in my lap outside a few more moments, explaining that horses don't really attack humans (but you don't want to walk around the back of one!), and that whatever it was was probably just crying for its mama.

When we did come in, he decided it was a baby horse missing its mama, who had gone to get dinner at McDonald's.

And he was asleep within 10 minutes of that.

It's not always that simple or easy, but it's a lot better than two hours of insisting "you don't have to go to sleep, but you have to stay in bed!"

I understand it's different for kids who have to be somewhere the next morning; no judgement here. Mostly just thought it was a cute interaction I wanted to remember. :)

And this is how he went to sleep Saturday night: we were driving to watch the sunset. We missed it. :)
This is the only thing that works besides "deedees."

The Number One Thing About Irony (also, Number Two)

Fair warning, people: There is going to be more bathroom talk in this post than you're probably going to give a crap about (ha!), and that's okay. It's mostly to follow up on the entry from a couple of days ago, and for posterity's sake.

Short version: After the hand-wringing from literally two days ago, Mal used the toilet about eight times today.

Extended version: This morning, Mal was in our bedroom (more succinctly James's bedroom at the moment) watching Peppa Pig and not wearing a diaper. Not because of anything, but just sometimes, he runs around naked. You know. Kids.

At some point, he started to pee in the floor, and I said, "Don't pee in the floor! Go sit on the potty!" He ran into the bathroom, sat on the training potty, and peed. There have been a couple of times lately that I've found some dried up dribble in there, but this was a full-on pee. He even said, "This is really fun!" while he was going. I personally think he was overselling it, but whatev.

A bit later, he was sitting on his dragonfly tricycle and looked down to see a few drops. I reminded him, "Go to the bathroom!" And he did!

We'd moved into his room, and he was kind of climbing on his bookshelves, which is hugely dangerous because it's really just four benches piled on top of each other (that's the design, but they're not attached by anything other than some curves and gravity). I told him not to, and he kind of hung in a way that I interpreted as crouching.

"Don't poop on the couch! Go use the toilet!"

He ran into the guest bathroom, where there is a training toilet exactly like the one in our back bathroom, except that it's turquoise instead of red. And it has a bit of cat litter because I guess the cats jump on it as they're leaving the bathroom.

That was apparently a deal-breaker, as Mal ran into the back bathroom, I thought to use it... but, no. He got the training seat you put on a big toilet, ran BACK into the front bathroom, and put it into place. I could see that he had a mess around his bum, but he did climb up in time to pee in the big toilet.

As I was cleaning up the subsequent turd I found in the middle of his bedroom floor (how did I miss that happening?! I was behind him the whole time!), I realized that he had, at some point, also used the red toilet AGAIN without my knowledge!

Crazy!

So then, when I was talking on the phone to my sister and in a totally different room from Mal, I saw him tear into the front bathroom with a look of simultaneous excitement and panic. He climbed up onto the big toilet, no booster seat, and seriously took a freaking dump all by himself. He actually watched it, and giggled. "Poop down there!"

And he peed about two more times later, too.

Oh my gosh.

We need to get out in the morning (to buy underwear, for one thing! I gotta strike this whilst the proverbial iron is hot), and that means wearing a Pull-Up for a bit longer. But if he takes to it like he did today, we're probably going to hang out at home for a week or so and see how awesome he gets at it.

So so weird and very, obviously, unexpected. I skid you not.

What a big boy.

The Fast-Paced World of Parenting a High Needs Toddler

One might assume that the life of a stay-home parent with an energetic toddler is a laundry list of monotonous tasks, repetitive and, after a while, seemingly meaningless.

Ho ho! I dare to disagree! I even dare to say "ho ho!" and THEN disagree!

My life is full of opportunities to keep my professional and artistic skills on point, much to the delight of my "customers" (hubs and kids). They are constantly in awe of my ingenuity and the ease with which I juggle so many high-pressure demands.

What? You doubt me? Here are but a few examples from ONE DAY this week!

Example 1: Pointless organization, as one would find in much of the business world. Here, I multi-tasked by alphabetizing all of our Bananagrams tiles while repeating, "No, don't touch it! Leave it alone! Just a minute! Let me get done! Hold on! Hands off! X, X, X..." etc. I guess there was a bit of a purpose here, as I wondered what the disbursement of the letters was. Unlike Scrabble, which straight up tells you on the box, this was a mystery. I solved it, and, as you can see by the encroaching finger, only barely managed to snap a picture before the middle row was on the floor.

Example 2: Interior design, speed version. Here, I managed to find random pieces of this playset and put them in some semblance of an order before my child jumped on the futon mattress, setting off a shockwave that felled the house. Those poor kitties never saw it coming. Should I have put the baby's bed in the parents' room, or is it better that the siblings sleep together? These are important decisions that a home designer has to make, and in this case, very quickly. You can't second-guess yourself.

Example 3: Food styling. Some day, my kid will be able to grab his own fruit and deal with it on his own. For now, I try to make it attractive and easy to eat so he'll get some vitamins and roughage and stuff into his body. I guess that makes me a nutritionist, too? Yeah. I'm pretty busy; it's hard to keep track of the many things I do. Also, this serves a dual purpose of having healthy left-overs in case he goes to sleep before he finishes the food, in which case I will eat it if it won't keep until the next day. So I'm also my own proxy dietician. Figure that one out. I dare you.

Bonus food styling later that day: Barbecue pork on an everything bagel with lemon pepper Brussels sprouts.

That's a pretty plate, freaks! Also, both of my kids love Brussels sprouts! Is that normal?

Example 4: Landscaper. I kill things. I'm not kidding. But the people who sold us this house had these mums sadly "planted" in another pot when we moved in. Actually, they'd literally taken the pots off and left the root ball sitting on top of the soil. Somehow, the mums lived. I planted them in different pots, putting the more forgiving rosemary in the covered pots on the porch, and noticed that soon there was some new growth. I sloppily cut back the old growth to make room, and it's not a masterpiece, but I didn't kill these suckers!

Example 5: Art mentor. This was just aesthetically pleasing to me, and served no purpose whatsoever, but it intrigued Mal and who knows what it might spark in him some day down the road. 8 bit designs are so soothing to my eyeball.

Example 6: Nature photographer. My son likely won't remember the adventures we have right now, so it's my job and privilege to take as many pictures as is humanly possible so that there is tangible memory of the events. Right? Please say yes. It's how I justify purchasing nice cameras.

And I haven't even gotten started on how well I've honed my television critic skills. I find myself asking questions about the timelines and plot points of programs like "Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood" and "ChuChu TV," an Indian import that is ridiculous but somehow appeals to my child.

Just trust me: This is like 45 full time jobs, and as soon as the kids are gone, I'll be polished up and ready to rejoin the work force in any and all important capacities!

Two kids, two stories

A couple of things I wanted to note for posterity's sake:

1) This morning, Mal was in the living room watching a video while I was tidying up his room. He'd been in there with me, but decided he wanted to sit in his awesome recliner, I guess. Anyway, at some point, he ran into his room, ran up to me, and just hugged me. Put his legs around me, sitting on my lap in the floor, and gave me a big hug. Did not try to nurse. Just hugged. Then he got up and went back in to watch the rest of his video. <3 <3 <3 That was a first!

2) A couple of nights ago, after Mal and James were asleep, I decided to go show D my new tablet. I lightly knocked on her door, then opened it. The light was on, so I was saying something about why I was there when I realized she was asleep. Her eyes opened a bit to look up at me, and I asked, "Do you want me to turn off your light?" This is the conversation that followed as I gathered up some trash and dishes:
"What?"
"Do you want me to turn out your light?"
"I don't understand what you're asking."
"Your light" (pointing up) "is on. Would you like for me to turn it off?"
*general look of confusion* "I still don't..."

I decided she was asleep and hit the light on my way out. As I shut the door, I heard, "No, thanks, Mom, you can just leave it off. Thank you for asking."

Gosh, I love these two kids!

D at the Las Vegas Natural History Museum, and Mal at Chick-fil-A.
Pretty much the same age, 23ish months.

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name

There are days, and I'm having quite a few of them lately, when I am profoundly disappointed by my inability to make close friends in Austin like I did in Sherman, and like I thought I did in Las Vegas (but after I moved realized I really hadn't).

However...

There is definitely something to be said with being so very comfortable with a group of people that you know and who know you so that you don't have to explain things. Inside jokes and obscure references and all that.

For example, a few months ago, D and I were talking when Mal got upset and started wailing (remember: he doesn't have a "middle," he only has glowingly cheerful or full-tilt breakdown). I could see D blanche and start to head back to her room.

I hollered after her, "So you're just like Voldemort?"

Grinning, she said, "Yes. Exactly that."

Then more recently, I went into Mal's room to tidy up and saw some plastic change from his cash register sitting on the floor. I picked it up, opened the register, and called to James, "I'm afraid this register till is going to be our smiley face mushroom." James laughed from the other room, and my heart fluttered.

It's so centering to be able to throw things out and just have them "gotten," and then to feel gotten myself. Home is the most important place, and I'm so blessed to share my home with people I actually enjoy as people. They make up for everything else that I might feel tugging at my heart sometimes. 

So... There's a line in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, just as, in a flashback, Voldemort is about to try to off Baby Harry, that says, "He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage—" And that's how D is like Voldemort. Well, that's one way.

The other thing is a lot more obscure. 

First: Mal has a cash register. When we were setting it up, there was some disagreement about how to put the money in the drawer. My inclination was to put it with the big bills and big coins on the left, going down to the pennies and one dollar bills on the right. It seemed like that's how we did it when I was a cashier. James' inclination was to do it left-to-right like you'd write numbers 1, 5, 10, etc. I looked it up and, yeah, the proper way to do it is how I wanted to do it. This pretty much never happens with numbers and me, especially when James is involved.

However, James still likes it the other way better, even knowing it's not the way a standard cash register would be set up. Consequently, almost any time he's alone with Mal playing in Mal's room, he will rearrange the money in the drawer. Then I have to re-rearrange it correctly when I notice this.

Second: Go WAY back in time to high school. I often peppered my notes with smiley faces (actually, I still do this). My smiley faces are just two vertical lines for eyes and a half-circle for a smile. Like this...

Well, one of my friends like to do this thing. He'd add three lines to my smiley face, thusly...

Then turn it upside down and, voila:

MUSHROOM!

Don't ask me why, because I don't have an answer, unless it's that I was a hormonally-charged teenage girl, but his defacing my smileys made me inordinately angry. It just miffed me to bits, and I would blanche and get really hot and bothered and seriously, if I want to do it, I can mentally go back there and kind of feel the dark cloud gathering above my head. 

Thank God I'm so mature now, though, right?

But my point is this: James knows my stories. I think he knows all of them. I get so sad sometimes (again, lately I've been pretty maudlin), wishing we could have been together all of this time -- especially on days like today when I decide that the bb cream I'm using actually accentuates my pores and wrinkles and I wish James had had years to look at my face back when my freckles were still flat on my face and my skin was all one consistent color.

However, we must have gotten something right, because I think we managed to tell each other everything and catch up on twenty years before we had Mal. That's a good thing, because we barely finish sentences anymore, much less whole trains of thought. 

There's not really a point to this post; just wanted to remind myself now and in the future that I have good teammates on this journey. I'm so glad.

A Parental Public Service Announcement

There is a line between having a properly proud parent moment on social media and in coming off like a sanctimonious a-hole. Sadly, this distinction seems to be lost on many people. Therefore, I have prepared a little tutorial.

Perfectly acceptable public kid brags:
1) "Robb's off rappelling again today! I love seeing his passion for this, and watching him work so hard."
2) "Kelsi picked out this cute kitty shirt at Target all by herself. Doesn't she have great taste?!"
3) "Mariana has been practicing piano like crazy lately, and I don't think I'm biased when I say she's getting GREAT!"

Unacceptable public posts:
1) "Robb's rappelling again today. I'm so glad he's climbing a mountain that the Lord Himself carved out of nothing instead of virtually scrabbling up an 8-bit mountain with a bunch of 6-year-olds on, goodness, I don't even know for sure; what's it called? MindCrap? ;)"
2) "Kelsi picked out this cute generic kitty shirt at Target. I'm proud that she selected this one instead of one of the hundred Frozen shirts that are everywhere. She has no idea who those or any characters are, since fifteen years ago we converted our CRT into an aquarium so the only thing she knows about a television is that the box houses fish, all of whom are smarter than we'd be if we'd kept watching TV."
3) "Mariana just transposed Bach's Symphony No 3 from memory! Thank goodness we get to homeschool so she doesn't have to waste 4 hours a day in kindergarten with all of those other glue-sniffing, booger-eating morons at the government compliant citizen factory."

Now, I might have punched those second examples up just a tiny bit, but, seriously, I've seen similarly-themed posts recently.

You might have heard this before, but please allow me to reiterate: It's not a contest. You're not in competition with anyone else. You don't get bonus parenting points if your kid has no pop culture awareness, or if he chooses organic broccoli over cake every single time, or if she can say all of the states in reverse alphabetical order. And you don't lose points if your teenager doesn't know your address, or your son is obsessed with Doc McStuffins, or you were just super grateful that this morning, your daughter remembered both shoes when you left the house, and that the shoes actually match.

All families have their own priorities, morals, and ethics, and we all love our kids and try to raise them the best way that we can. We're not perfect, and neither are they. Sometimes they blow our socks off, and sometimes they're remarkably unremarkable. So, sure, when you have a "win," share it! Let people rejoice with you! But don't throw other people under the bus. Don't assume that your particular brand of parenting means you somehow care more or are seizing the days with any more vigor and life than anyone else.

Especially if your pride is in something hipster - ahem, I mean, outside of the mainstream. Think about it: If you're outside of the mainstream, then by definition, you're probably looking down your nose at and offending the majority of your audience, many of whom are supposedly friends.

So be proud, but not prideful. You and your kids aren’t getting into heaven any earlier than the rest of us because you’re gluten free or media free or sleep in hammocks. Stop saying stupid things that imply others are just doing it wrong. Don't be a d-bag.

The more you know...

Romance vs. Reality, Halloween Edition

Lots of people have been posting their pumpkin-carving pictures (at first I didn't hyphenate that, and the thought "pumpkin carving" pictures is interesting and marginally terrifying to me) on social media. James actually got a pumpkin from his office last Friday, but we've been waiting to carve it until tonight, the evening before his work Halloween party.

They're having a costume contest (adult and kid divisions), pumpkin carving contest, Halloween-themed treat contest, and a trivia game. There are prizes in each division, and I had a great idea for the treat contest, the prize for which is a cooking class at Whole Foods!

I had big plans for our entries and for our evening. Our first family Halloween activity! (Last year, we were too tired.)

My first idea was to make a Hello Kitty cake. It'd have white fondant, I'd pipe Hello Kitty on the top, and write, "Hello Kitty," then surround the cake with red frosting stars to match the kitty's bow. People would see it and think, "Well, okay. It's cute, but not really Halloween-themed." Then when it was time to eat, I'd cut the first piece and it would start "bleeding." I'd act like it wasn't supposed to do that, and try to staunch the "blood" with my hands, continually touching the cake so that the white fondant would end up covered in "bloody" fingerprints. Then after I'd cut the piece out, all that would be left of the writing would be "Hell Kitty."

GENIUS, right?! Well, except that when I moved the cake (it depanned fine), it cracked. I thought, hoping against hope, that if I used a thick enough coating of frosting, maybe I could make an escape-proof container for the blood. A lot of examples I saw online used plastic bags, but I really didn't want to put a plastic bag in my cake. Now I see why they did. Because it was fine... I poured the blood in and topped the cake. It held. But when I plopped the frosting down on the top, I guess that did it. The crack separated and... Well, the effect was pretty awesome.

So I immediately decided for Plan B, I'd make the cute "candy corn" fruit cups I'd put together a few weeks ago for Rework.

Probably wouldn't win a prize, but would be a cute entry. I didn't have time to go to the store, so I ordered from Instacart. Then I missed the shopper's call and got her voice mail when I called back. The store didn't have any ghost Peeps. Whatever. But she said she needed to replace the pineapple tidbits with crushed pineapple. I told her that wouldn't work and I would rather have chunks than crushed (I used chunks in the above example), but I guess she didn't get the message in time. We were in the middle of carving the pumpkin when the delivery guy came, and I realized then that I had 8 (8!!!) tiny cans of crushed pineapple. They made it right before I caught it, refunding the money for all of them. However... they also didn't get clear cups like I asked. They got those cheap plastic translucent cups. I will use all of it because I don't have the time to go to the store to get what I need (or I would have done that in the first place) and I hate to throw bad money after good. So, grr on that. Whatever.

As for our super fun family activity, we converged on the patio. Once James had taken the top off of the pumpkin, the two of us dug in. Daphne would only reach in wearing foodservice gloves, and Mal was having none of it. When D was his age, she at least went for it a couple of times.

Slimy...

...Yet Satisfying.

Good grief, that was more than 13 years ago. Anyhoo... Not Mal. He stood on the goo and slipped around. He tried to stir our pumpkin seed cache with his sand box tools. But no hand go in.

Yeah... no.

While we were doing this, I realized that Mal had a dirty diaper. Like, it-has-to-be-changed-now-or-else dirty, so I carried him in... carefully. I didn't hold him to me or put any pressure on his backside because, eww. I realized as I was lying him on his changing pad that my left hand was still covered with pumpkin guts. Oh well. I cleaned him up as best I could while he cried, miffed that I'd taken him away from the fun, and he ran back outside before I could get the diaper on. Daphne was not amused, making it a point to look away.

She drew the eyes and mouth for us, then James decided to get his drill out to make removing the face holes a little easier.

Daphne went inside at this point to do something, and Mal retreated to the other side of the patio. He does that when I vacuum or use the blender sometimes, too, so I wasn't concerned... Until a few moments later, he kind of approached me and I could see that his bottom lip was quivering and he was terrified. I put my arms around him and held him, and he started crying for real. The drill was traumatic for him. I put his head against my shoulder to cover one ear, and covered the other with my hand. I assured him that it was okay, but he was so so sad. I decided to bring him in for a quick bath while James finished up with the power tools.

D asked if she could stay inside until we went back out, but I asked her to see if James needed any help. Mal was distracted during his bath. I tried to keep the water on pretty full blast, but he could still hear the drill and was torn between being scared and wanting to climb out of the tub, I suppose to help save his dad.

After Mal's bath, we went out to finish decorating the pumpkin. My idea had been to use candy corn for teeth, and I was hoping to find these gummy eyeballs that Daphne got one year for Halloween.

Two days before this sweetie turned 5.

But, no. We couldn't find those. So, once again, we had a Plan B. But we hadn't counted on the dang candy corn being so picky and splitting when we tried to impale them on the toothpicks. And our idea to use drill holes for the Red Vines hair didn't really pan out, either. Daphne had a headache or something, so I eventually cut her loose. And Mal wanted to eat a lot of candy corn, but I cut him off after two pieces, not just because he seemed to think it was fun to chew but then just spit it out on the patio. I told James that, in hindsight, the pumpkin carving might have been something to do after Mal was in bed. Except for the drill part. That will likely give him nightmares as it is.

So, anyway, we ended up with a janky Rastafarian pumpkin. I know someone's going to have like a 3D rendering of Ron Burgandy or something, and we don't have a chance of winning either of the contests now, but whatever. All of you people with Pinterest-worthy posts... good for you. I guess that's just not how we roll here at Team Dave's. Even if we wanted to.

Terrifying on so many levels.

They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Ha...

I'm not saying that parenting a baby is tedious or that I'm losing my mind or anything, but the other day, I was in Mal's room playing with his blocks and said, "That's interesting" out loud. When James asked me what, I realized that it wasn't actually interesting, but that I was spending way too much time in my baby's room.

Seriously.

If you talk to me and I'm boring, here's why. This is what I do all day.

This is a set of stacking blocks that Mal has. I got them for like $6 at a second-hand store months before he was born, not knowing how much I'd end up playing with them. Can you tell he teeths on them? Especially the top ones?

Anyway, this is how they're "supposed" to go. Sometimes I stack them upside down just because it looks impossible and fun and I love that. But then I try to find other patterns or ways to stack, or try just to be completely random. Or make the stacks look of uniform size, which you can do pretty well by alternating big and small pieces. But I digress.

Here's sort of rainbow order... I usually pull the red one off of the bottom of the disc pile and put it on top. Didn't do it this time, and now it's going to bother me. This is the worst blog ever.

Here, I tried to get uniform colors all the way across. As you can see, there are only 2 light blues and 2 reds. However, there are four dark blues, greens, and yellows. And three purples and oranges. I wonder why they went with 4 yellows, when this is such a ugly yellow it would have been prettier to do orange or even my favorite: purple. But, as you can see, I think about it way too much. This is what my life has become.

Also, if one piece is missing, I can tell you by looking at the rest which one is gone. Sad, sad times.

Color blocks. I have to have the red "toppers," and this bothers me.

Mal has another toy that is similar, and right now, I have it "random with as much off-track as possible." So, basically, it's a hot mess.

This toy is actually superior to the first one because the sticky-up parts can fold down. On the first toy, the sticky-up rods don't move, and many were the times that I worried my wobbly infant was going to impale himself. I don't think he ever did, or if he did, it obviously wasn't too traumatic for us. But I like the train's design better.

Unfortunately, I also liked to twist the posts around and watch them unwind, and I ended up breaking one off. So, yeah. I broke my kid's toy. I don't think he's cared yet.

Next, we have a linear alphabet Noah's ark puzzle that my friend Jana gave me. She had the pieces in a shoe box, and I put them in this Wilton's candy Christmas tin.

May I be honest and tell you I have spent more than two months trying to figure out how to get all of the animal pieces on the bottom of the tin (not having to stack or pile them)? Well, a couple of days ago, I finally got a combination that worked, and while I was trying to take this picture, Mal took out the giraffe and I almost had a heart attack getting him back in so I could get this shot.

This probably looks pretty easy, but figuring it out... well, wasn't. Maybe I'm just not spatially inclined. But here's my next challenge: I KNOW in my heart of hearts that there's room for the ark, too. I want them all on the floor of this tin. I don't know why. It's just that this is what my existence has become, and I'm leaning into it, friends.

Wish me luck! Or pray for me. Whatever.

See these books? I've memorized all of them. If we're ever waiting in line for something and you'd like an oral interpretation, hit me up. I have a lot of material here. (Yeah, Mal teeths on these, too, even though we've tried not to let him.)

Another thing: Since we moved and Mal has carpet instead of wood flooring, I've been working on places to put his top. Obviously, we can put it on books, but sometimes it spins off. It will spin on the floor, but just not as long.

One thing that I've found works is these oatmeal tin lids. It holds the top in place until it starts to slow down, then it falls off about the time it'd have stopped on a hard floor, anyway.

But the other day, I got super excited because I figured out that I could do this. And, yes, "super excited." At the moment, I seriously was. And this makes me pity myself just a bit.

Is it a spyglass or a top stand? It's BOTH!

That's blurry, but it was difficult for D to focus on a moving object with my picky camera. Plus, I'm sure she wondered what the heck was going on with her mom that I kept asking her to try it "one more time." I mean, what is wrong with her mom?!

Wheee!

Next step: See what kind of repertoire I can build up on this thing.

It's a little tricky because there are no sharps or flats; it's just the straight scale, with a few extra notes on either end.

Oh, did you also know that you can make the sound come out by sucking on the keys with them open? It might make you pass out, but that's possible. Also, James and I had a "contest" (I suggested it) to see who could make this thing work with their mouth furthest away from the blow hole. I won, or I wouldn't have suggested it, of course.

And last week, James and I spent a good hour tossing/rolling a ball back and forth while Mal did other things.

So, please. Someone. Help me.

Today, so far

I have a blog in the pipes (meaning: intention; hopefully it will get done) about a couple of cool things we've found in our "neighborhood" or immediate vicinity this week. However, today happened, and I had to share my day.

6:30 AM - Mal wakes up. It's still dark. We go out on the patio for a while to welcome the cloudy day, then come in to get breakfast ready for James.

Mal has this new thing where he makes the sound that the coffee grinder makes because I guess he wants me to use it. But I didn't need to this morning, and he was upset. I handed him the grinder and he played happily with it until he wanted food, so I poured us a bowl of cereal,

We went back on the patio to eat (milk + cereal + my baby = almost guaranteed mess) but he kept wanting to put his hands into the cereal since he usually eats that cereal dry. So I brought him back in, put him in the kitchen floor, and handed him a bowl of the puffs. He not only dumped them into the floor, he started crunching them with his feet. I asked him not to, put the cereal back into the bowl, and held on to it for him while he took a few.

My son has an "interesting" habit right now: He will put something in his mouth, maybe chew it a time or two, and then be done with it. Especially if it's bigger than small-bite-size. I'm having to chop his grapes up because even though he CAN do it with his teeth, he'll often bite it, end up with one piece he wants to swallow, and just put the rest in the floor. He did that a few times, and as I was getting ready to put the lid on the bowl so he couldn't get any more until he finished what he had, he spilled them AGAIN and started smashing them with his feet AGAIN.

I moved him to the living room so I could sweep and mop (sticky floors my bare feet do not love).

Finally, we got James off to work, and we played in Mal's room. We have been reading every single board book he owns twice every day for a while now. We usually read "Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb" about 12 times per day, thrice to half a dozen times per sitting. He loves it.

Mal actually ended up going to sleep at 10, which is super early. He's been taking his one - and often only - nap at around 1 lately. But I was glad. He was so tired, he needed it!

When he woke up, I invited him on an "adventure" and we went to The Home Depot for sand. He's been playing in his sandbox for over a week with no sand, and he doesn't care. I knew he'd love the improvement.

They have car carts at Home Depot, so that was good times. We got 150 pounds of sand (and no one offered to help us out to our car; just myself and a baby... thanks for the great customer service!), and then went across the street to Chick-fil-A.

Okay, you may have issues with the now-deceased owner's social views, but CFA knows what they're doing with their core customer base. This might have been around for a while, but I'd never seen it before... probably because I didn't need it until recently. But they have the little cups (like that they put the small carrot raisin salad in) at the end of the counter, and they're full of Cheerios. There's a sign that says something like "If your kids are too small to 'Eat mor chickn,' enjoy these with our compliments."

Also, they have books in their kids' meals, but if you have a kid under 3, they have board books! So Mal got a book in addition to his food, and my meal was free (thanks to my cowlendar card).

Then we went into the playground. Mal looked around for a while, then got brave.

After a bit of that, we came back home. I asked Daphne if she'd mind watching Mal so I could bring the three 50-pound bags of sand up to the apartment.

When I'd pulled in, there was a landscaping truck and trailer taking up the 7 or 8 closest spaces to my apartment, so I had to park about half a block away. When I went to get the sand, I decided to pull up very close, unload the sand, then move the car back. "Jerk," I thought, as I realized the truck was running and the landscaping guy was just sitting in there taking his break.

I moved my van, opened the back, unloaded the sand to the grass, then started to close the back door, but decided to lock it first, since it locks separately from the front doors and when I moved back to my parking space, my back doors would be in the bushes so I couldn't go back and do it manually.

Then I went around to move the van and... IT WAS LOCKED. Engine running, parked diagonally and blocking one of the paid covered parking spaces, and also blocking the sidewalk entrance. Ugh.

Just so you know, when I have my car running and Mal is in it, I always open one of the windows about 4 inches, so I can reach in if I happen to do something like this. Or, if my electronics system just messes up (which it does, and has, but usually this just involves the doors NOT locking, though once, the side door just randomly locked).

Anyway, I think I actually slapped my head with both hands like they do in cartoons when they realize they've done something stupid.

I grabbed a bag of sand to take it upstairs and was thinking quickly: James was 30 miles away at work. I could call the office and ask them if any of the maintenance guys could get into an old van. After all, wasn't it their fault because one of their contractors had stinking parked in such a way that their own tenants couldn't use their parking spots?!

Just as I came into the apartment, I remembered: Because my darling daughter has her own speed, and sometimes Mal has last-minute emergencies, I had made copies of our house key, apartment key, AND van key for her to keep, in case she ever needed them. Thank God!

She went and got me her key, and I was on my way downstairs when I saw the two remaining bags of sand at the bottom of the stairs. I walked down and the landscaping guy was standing there. "Thanks!' I said. He asked, "You're upstairs?" I told him I was, and that sweet feller walked the two other bags up to my doorstep while I moved my van back into the parking space further away.

Just think: If that "jerk" hadn't parked where he did, I'd have had to carry three times more sand upstairs than I did!

Apparently wanting to experience stuff with his feet has broad applications. He was trying alternately to scoop sand out onto the patio or put his feet up over the side of the sandbox. I gave him a little help...

After he'd played for a good long while, he was ready to get out. He wanted to come inside, but he was super sandy. So I pulled off his clothes, including his diaper. He still wanted to come in, but went right back out to "sweep" the patio. I thought, "What a great compromise! He likes to be naked, I want to get my security deposit back - so no peeing on the carpet."

He Swiffered in the nude for a few minutes, then, sure enough, peed while sitting on the concrete. Just like with the cereal and sand, he immediately started rubbing his feet in the puddle. Then I remembered my idea I'd implemented the other day with great success: A pan full of water!

I filled up his favorite sauce pan and a bonus cup with water. The bonus cup got dumped on the puddle immediately, and then Mal played in the water for another ten or fifteen minutes.

I have one picture I wish I could share, but the internets don't take kindly to adorbs naked baby pictures, so I won't. He just had an awesome time and was in a great mood when we came inside.

Later, though... Well, I ended up taking a hot and sweaty walk to the mailbox just so he'd go to sleep. Which he did. And my husband should be almost home now, so... It's time for a 4-day weekend!

The Brain of Sleep Deprivation

Mal's been waking very frequently lately, and when he wakes up, he doesn't just nurse back to sleep. He sits up. He starts to crawl away. Sometimes, he just looks around the room before head-butting my neck or wherever he hits as he decides it's time to lie back down.

Usually, by the time we wake up wake up in the morning, I'm longing for two hours' more sleep, uninterrupted by a baby. But I get up, and we make it through until night time somehow.

Still, I know this must be doing something to my brain. By the time Daphne was Mal's age, we were one month past my weaning her of her last nighttime feeding (2 AM) because I couldn't handle it anymore, and here we are, still waking 6 or more times per night. The difference, of course, is that we co-sleep with Mal so I don't have to get out of bed. And he's always, with two nights' exceptions, slept "through" the night without my having to get up in order to resettle him. That's been incredible.

But still.

Nine hours' uninterrupted sleep.

What I fool I was not to enjoy and appreciate it more. (And I did appreciate and enjoy it... very much. Especially after the back thing. I wasn't back to taking it for granted, but I would take it less for granted now!)

Anyway, with that in mind, you can just ponder my mental state as the next few things have passed through my brain recently:

1) Hummingbird eggs. They must be tiny. I told James I was picturing the lychee boba I had last week, and he said, "They're probably not that big." Then I pictured Nerds. And I decided that Nerds ARE hummingbird eggs. Hummingbirds just eat nectar and/or sugar water, right? So it makes sense that their eggs would be pure sugar instead of calcium or whatever. I hope you Nerds lovers aren't vegan. I wonder how many nests they have to harvest to make one of the non-"fun"-sized boxes of Nerds.

Okay, I just looked it up. They're about the size of peas or jellybeans - I KNEW IT - and there are typically two eggs laid on different days. I'm going to post a video here; it's out of focus when the second bird hatches, and you can kind of skip around until about 7.5 minutes, then you can watch a momma hummingbird feed her babies! SO PRECIOUS.




2) I know a lot of people have theological issues they are all poised to ask God about in the afterlife, but today as James and I propped ourselves up against the bar in the kitchen, eating tortilla chips with bacon horseradish dip because no one had the heart to make dinner, I could only think of one think of one thing as I watched Mal happily pulling every. single. thing. out of the kitchen cabinets: There are two of us and only one of him. How are we so tired when he's full of energy? (He only had a 45 minute nap today.)

(Yes, I realize I made an error in that up there, but I'm illustrating something here. Where has my mind gone?!)

3) For whatever reason, I'm in a very "the days are long" season. BUT there is light at the end of the tunnel, as MOPS will start in about a month (pray that Mal will make it through the couple of hours without me!) and then the Over 40s Moms group that I asked about just after Mal was born is finally planning a meeting!

Last night was interesting, though. Mal woke up as much as usual, but after about midnight, he didn't feed again until probably 5 this morning. So, basically, he went half the night without feeding. When he woke up, he'd move around, climb over me, sometimes I'd put him on my opposite side, but even when I offered it to him, he wasn't interested in nursing; he just fell back to sleep.

4) 4 TEETH BROKE THROUGH MAL'S GUMS DURING THE PAST WEEK. This brings him up to 10 teeth. (Though you still can't see the four new ones.)

5) I have liked my new camera except for when the flash is needed. It's super slow, and the flash is "blotchy" instead of evenly lighting the photo area. My old camera did that on close-ups (like macros) and I hated it. Yesterday, I realized that every picture I've taken with a flash... I had my hand over the sensor AND the flash, and that's why they've looked like crap. Heh. It's a tiny camera. I just need to get my hand out of the way.

6) When do you consider your baby "walking"? Last week in the cry room at church, a man was telling me that his three-year-old took her first steps at 10 months, but then didn't walk until she was a year old. That got me to thinking about the phrase "started walking." Mal takes steps. He has the ability to walk. But I told James I won't count him as "walking" until it's his favorite source of mobility. James said it's not *his* favorite way to get around, so for clarity's sake, I mean once he chooses walking instead of crawling the majority of the time.

Anyway, who cares? Daphne didn't walk until after her first birthday party; that much I know.

Daphne, on her first birthday. Not walking. Barely eating cake. She wasn't interested.
Sad how she looks nothing like her little brother, right?
(And for those of you who aren't their mom, they have the exact same hands!)

At 13, bless her, she's still walking just fine. So I'm not too fussed about dates and stuff, I guess is what I'm saying.

Whatever number I'm on) I am supposed to be making a grocery list for tomorrow morning (it's HOT out there, and early AM is the only time to get out! Wish our library opened before 10 because we need to go there first) and you're distracting me!