Moth 15 - Recap

Lawsy MERCY this month has been rough on you (and, therefore, yours truly).  You had your 15-month-shots and they really took their toll on you (and, therefore, yours truly).  I forgot, and the nurse didn't remind me to hold your arms down when you got your shots.  So you grabbed at the needle which, I'm sure, made it poke you harder.  So you screamed harder.  And the screaming pretty much lasted for a week.  You were mildly pleasant as long as I was holding you, but as soon as I made a motion to sit or put you down or hand you off to someone else, the screaming ensued.  [Just in case you were curious, it's supremely difficult to pack up a house and try to stage it while only using only one arm.]  After you recovered from your shots, you got this crazy virus that made you keep going with the supremely crabby-and-clingy-ness.  I only know it was a virus because I took you BACK to the doctor because I was certain you were broken.  That there had to be SOME reason why my mellow boy had been a nonstop crab-fest for two weeks.  The doctor did a flu test which, mercifully, was negative.  Then she checked your blood to see if anything strange showed up.  Your white blood cells indicated you had a virus but of course there wasn't a way to tell what it was.  And even if there were a way, it's not like you can do anything for a virus.  Except be the receiving end of constant whining and fussing.  Which I was.  Did I mention you're also teething?  Because you are.  Your poor hands are so red and raw from where you've been gnawing on them for the past month, and your poor gums look so swollen.  I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but if you had just simply grown more teeth when you were younger, you wouldn't be going through the pain of trying to pop through a dozen teeth at once.

You really like to color.  You especially love it when you and Natalie sit at your little table and color together.  Natalie's off in her own little world, coloring and singing.  And you're simultaneously scribbling and babbling right along with her.  Even though you two coloring together doesn't last for long, trust me, I drink it in.  I've been waiting ever so impatiently for the time when you two can play together.  And while you guys have been playing together for a while now, this is one of the first times where you're both doing the same thing at the same time in the same location.  And it's gooooooooood.

Natalie has been showing you some of the 'baby' games on Bob's iPad (yes, kid, you like the iPad.  Your kids will surely make fun of you for EVER playing on something as archaic as the iPad is destined to be.  Your mother played with a Nintendo.  Never heard of it?  Look it up.  Then write me a three-page paper on the awesomeness that is the original Super Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt.)  Natalie loves showing you how to play with it, and you, being the President and CEO of the Natalie Fan Club, think it's the best thing ever.

You're still a fairly picky - but perfectly pleasant - eater.  You still love all things carbs and cheese.  Everything else is iffy.  Though the other day, I DID get you to eat several bites of a black eyed pea salad (that was delicious, in case you were wondering).  I'm realizing that I have to feed you a bite of anything new.  That you just won't see some new food on your tray and dig right in.  You seem to try new things about 75% of the time if I feed you the first bite.  You lazy bones.

You've got a few tricks up your sleeve now.  You've been doing the Scruncher Bear face on command for a while now, but you've also started doing Growly Bear on command (wherein you growl like a very cute, completely-harmless-but-trying-so-hard-to-sound-fierce bear).  You flap your arms when we ask you what a chicken does.  You point to your head, ear, cheek, and belly button when asked.  You particularly like showing off your impossibly blubber-able belly and its associated button.  I've tried to teach you other body parts, but that's usually met with the Growly Bear noise.  Or showing us your belly button.  I have the same problem with you that I had with Natalie.  That after you show us YOUR belly button, you proceed to lift up MY shirt to see MY belly button.  Listen, kid.  You and your sister taking up residence in my belly for a total of 18 months has permanently destroyed my belly button.  It's not cute anymore.  Nobody needs to see the carnage.

You're still climbing and still not walking.  As much as I want you to walk, I'm actually quite consumed with being impressed by your climbing ability.  Despite your surprisingly nimble moves, Daddy and I have already decided that we'll end up in the ER with you waaaaaaaaay before Natalie.  And we'll probably end up in a Parent-Teacher conference for Natalie waaaaaaaaay before you.  Between your climbing antics and Natalie's know-it-all antics, Daddy and I are gonna be driving all over town.  With big, fat smiles on our faces.  (Except, of course, if you really get hurt.  Then we won't smile.  But I'm sure we'll smile later.  As we show pictures of the aftermath to your future bride.)

Hugs & smooches,
Mommy and Daddy

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Headlines for February 9, 2012:

• Storm Drops More Than 2 Feet of Snow on Northeast
• Man's Estate Left to Actors He Never Met
• Ethan Spends Birthday With Swat Heroes
• Skateboarder's Downhill Ride Breaks Speed Limit
• Return of Timberlake Among Grammy Highlights

January 2013 - Recap

Oh my dear, darling four-year-old,
So Bob told me this was true.  That there'd be no denying it.  That even though I had experienced some level of it before you turned four, it wasn't even close to what it was after you turned four.  Four-year-old girls ARE, in fact, the silliest creatures on the face of the planet.  Good heavens, with the incessant fake laughter, the made-up language (that we lovingly refer to as Natalese) that you use periodically throughout the day, and the tremendous humor you find from sticking your socks in Charlie's face for him to smell, it's a wonder we can come up for air. 

In addition to being the silliest people on the planet, I'm realizing that four-year-old girls are also the sassiest.  One of my dear friends said that she threatened to make her four-year-old daughter three again if she didn't straighten up her attitude.  I immediately stole that idea.  Whenever you start to get too big for your britches (about every 12 seconds or so), I say "Would you like to be three again?  Cuz I can make that happen.  I'm a Mommy.  I can do anything."  Then you screech and wail that you don't WANT to be three again.  That being three is for BABIES.  That you'll have to give up your super cool NIGHTLIGHT and your super cool TOOTHBRUSH (two things that are only given to four-year-olds, don't ya know?) and you CAN'T give
those up.  So you decide to squelch the sassiness.  For two minutes.  Thankfully, your analytical side hasn't decided to question my method of making you three again.  Because frankly, I have no idea how I'd answer that. 

This is the first month of 'Quiet Time' where you haven't taken a nap.  Which means I haven't taken a nap.  Which means I'm a bleary-eyed mess by dinner time.  Which means I've started having an afternoon cup of coffee.  But it also means that by the time your bedtime rolls around at 7:30, there is very little protest from your end.  You do the obligatory "I don't WANNA go to sleep!  It's no FUN being in my room by mySELF" monologue, but it only lasts a few minutes and you're sacked out.  As opposed to when you WERE taking a nap.  Where it wouldn't be abnormal for you to come into the living room two HOURS after I put you to bed talking about how it's no FUN to be your room by yourSELF.  So no afternoon nap means a quicker bedtime but it also means that both of our nerves are completely shot by 6pm.

So since you're not napping during Quiet Time, you've had to come up with other activities to do.  One of them is jewelry making.  And I have to hand it to you.  You totally milk the cuteness factor.  The rule of Quiet Time is that you can't come out of your room.  You can do whatever you want (within reason, of course - but it's not like you have a flame thrower in there) as long as you stay in your room.  Well, you've been on this jewelry-making kick this month, and you've rationalized that if you're holding a necklace that you've made for me, it's okay to come out of your room 17 times during Quiet Time.

I'm not sure where you picked this up from (probably me, but I'm not 100%), but you've recently started saying things are 'amazing' and 'outstanding'.  Except you don't say it like 'amazing' and 'outstanding'.  You say 'uh--MAZING' and 'out--STANDING'.  You say it so emphatically and with such seriousness that it's hard not to giggle in response.  According to you, Goldfish crackers are uh-MAZING.  Pancakes at a local restaurant are out-STANDING.  I'm not sure what determines if something falls into the uh-MAZING category or the out-STANDING category.  But I do know this: you are both, indeed, uh-MAZING and out-STANDING.  And uh-MAZINGLY exhausting.  Zzzzzz.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for February 1, 2013:

• Turkey: At Least 2 Dead in Suicide Attack on US Embassy
• Growing Number Of Educators Boycott Standardized Tests
• Who’s who: This year’s Super Bowl stars
• Sheriff to Alabama hostage-taker: 'I want to thank him for taking care of our child'
• Ben & Jerry's Unveils Liz Lemon Greek Yogurt Flavor