Weekly Smithkids - Week 171 and Week 22

 My sweet girl

Yep, that IS a three-year-old in a Lincoln Log bucket.

Team Smith is easily amused.

He's smiling because he's too little to be Lincoln Log bucket'd.

His time is coming though.

Smooches from Daddy

It's seriously hard to remain on your tummy when your head so large

Weekly Smithkids - Week 170 and Week 21

This week was such a departure from the wailing and teeth-gnashing Disaster of the Double Double-Ear Infections that was last week.

It's so nice to see her smile again. She's a top-notch smiler.

And him, too. His dimply goodness rocks my world.

Month 5 - Recap

Well, sir, you win the race of Which Smithkid Can Get An Ear Infection Before the Other? Natalie got her first one just a month before she turned two. But you, you little One Upper, got your first one just a week before you turned five months. I noticed you coughing on the evening of Daddy's and my anniversary, but I didn't think much of it. Fast forward three hours and you began your Four Nights of Not Sleeping More than One Hour at a Time. You didn't have a fever, but your nose was half-congested-and-half-runny and you kept coughing. The next morning, I called the nurses' line at your pediatrician's office and was told that as long as you didn't have a fever and as long as you were able to breathe well, then there's not really anything the doctor can do. Poo. The next night was just as bad. You were up and crying every hour or so and nothing really seemed to console you besides incessant jiggling (which, while it may be a great calorie burner, it's hard to do at 2am. And again at 3am. And again at 4am. And again at 5am.) You looked absolutely miserable. Your eyes were runny, your nose was runny, and, of course, you were still drooling. 'Soaking wet mess' is a pretty good phrase to describe you. I'm not proud of this, but I called the nurses' line again the next morning and told a little white lie by saying your cough sounded croup-y. I wanted the doctor to see you to determine if there was something more than just a cold, but I didn't want to sound like a worry-wart mother. Which I am, by the way. Anywho, I do NOT advocate lying and I do NOT want you to lie, but I'm so glad your pediatrician saw you that day. She took one look in your ears and said "Oh wow. He's definitely got an ear infection. And an upper respiratory infection." So while I'm so sorry you're sick, I'm THRILLED there was a (relatively) quick fix for it. By the second day of being on an antibiotic, you seemed like you were feeling better. You're still not sleeping great at night, but it's a heckuva lot better than what it was. (Side note: Natalie got an ear infection two days later. Two Smithkids, each with a double ear infection. Each not sleeping for more than 45 minutes at a time before waking up crying [at different 45-minute intervals, of course.] You're welcome for not making you both sleep outside.)

You giggle. A lot. And seriously, kid, it's like music to my ears. You're such a good-natured boy (except when you're tired. You're pretty much a bear when you're tired. And not a cute Charlie Bear kind of bear. You're a grumpy, fussy WAAHHHHHHHH kind of bear.) so it's pretty easy to get you to giggle. We laugh a LOT in this house, so it bodes well that you're so amused by us. Is it sad that we like the validation of our humor when we can get a baby to giggle? Eh, probably.

We put you in the Jumperoo for the first time this month. It was one of Natalie's favorite toys and I was totally excited to see how you'd like it. It took you two-ish weeks before you got the hang of it. And even then, you still don't really jump. And why one earth WOULD you, since Natalie pushes the Jumperoo up and down FOR you. It's hysterical. You're just a passenger. As far as you know, the Jumperoo runs on Natalie propulsion.

It's so funny how differently I approach your milestones, being the second child and all. I was practically tracking Natalie's every move and making sure it lined up with what was appropriate for her specific age. But you? You're not rolling over yet (you're about 95% of the way there), but it's no biggie. You're not great at holding up your head for long periods of time when you're on your tummy (in your defense, I don't think I'd do any better at holding up a behemoth head either), but it's no biggie. Mainly I think that everything leading up to you becoming mobile can wait as long as possible. I know what happens when babies become mobile. And I really, really enjoy knowing that if I put you in one position on the floor, leave the room for a few minutes and come back, you're going to be in pretty much the same position I left you in (give or take a few degrees). But a mobile baby? Dude. That's a whole 'nother can of worms that I'm just not ready for. So if you don't crawl till you're six, it's cool with me.

You seem to like when I read to you. You come with me when I read to Natalie before her naptime and the books seem to hold your interest for a while. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom is one you get particularly squeal-y about. It was one of Natalie's favorites, so it's cute to see that you like it too. I distinctly remember Bob reading bedtime stories to Aunt KK and me when we were younger. And truth be told, she read to us WELL past the age of when kids usually aren't read to anymore. But I loved it. It's one of my most treasured memories, being curled up on Aunt KK's bed while Bob read us each book of the Little House of the Prairie series. And when she reached the last page of the last book, we started the first book all over again. I don't remember of LHOTP bookies are too 'girlie' - I'll have to reread them and see, because I would love, love, love to read those books to you and Natalie. And maybe in between each LHOTP book, I'll read a book about robots or dinosaurs or dump trucks or something. Just to boy it up a bit. Cuz I'm nice like that.

I pray for you and your sister a lot, but one of my most fervent prayers is that you both come to a saving knowledge of Jesus. I can't be a good mom without Him (as evidenced by you and your sister not sleeping in the yard when you double-teamed me with ear infections). I can't be a good wife without Him. I can't be a good ANYthing without Him. Yesterday was Easter. Easter is my favorite holiday, and celebrating my risen Savior coupled with you being 0.416-with-a-line-over-the-six'th of a year old makes the day especially special. YOU are especially special, my darling Baby Bear.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for April 9, 2012:

• 'Everybody's going to do it': Teens risk melanoma to tan for prom
• Magical shot in playoff lifts Bubba Watson at Masters [side note: Bubba Watson is from Milton, and went to the same high school as Daddy!]
• London, NYC top the cities favored by ultra-rich
• Athletic dudes' girly little secret: The pedi
• World's smallest puppy fits in a mug
• '60 Minutes' veteran Mike Wallace dies

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 165, 166, 167, 168, 169 & 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

So I'm pretty sure that we did cool things this past month. But the past four days have been rough. Charlie got his first ear infection and slept probably 15 hours over four nights. He didn't even sleep that badly when he was a newborn. The antibiotics seem to have kicked in, so he's feeling a bit better. Just in time for Natalie to start feeling ill. Awesome.

So here's how this week has looked.

A lot of this. Particularly at 2 in the morning.

Oh yes. Let's not forget the big, fat tears.
We've had a LOT of those.

And then there's the crumpled face. That's a good one.

And finally, we have the grumpy toddler. A personal favorite.

And me? Well, this about sums it up.

(Except my hair doesn't look this well-brushed.
And I'm in yoga pants and a shirt with drool on it.
And I have three baskets of clothes that need to be folded.
But other than that, this is me.)

March 2012 - Recap

My sweet Peanut,
I'm so curious to know if you'll do something music-related when you're older. You love to sing, you pick up on lyrics with lightning speed, and you can identify most instruments by just hearing them. Three of your favorite songs have Ls in the title. Your sweet voice combined with your inability to pronounce the letter L, makes for some unbearably cute renditions. You get ridiculously excited when "Love Come to Life" (or, "Yuhve Come to Yife"), "Learning to be the Light" (or, "Yearning to be the Yight"), and "Where I Belong" (or, "Where I Beyong") come on KLOVE. You jump up, you squeal, you proudly announce to Charlie that these are your favorite songs. And you can sing about 80% of those songs. I love, love, love it.

You are definitely Pep's granddaughter and Uncle Rich's niece. You like going around the house announcing "Ooh rah, Go Navy."

Our normal bedtime routine is reading you a book, me or Daddy praying, then tucking in you in (after your OCD self makes sure all of your stuffed animals and blankets are in their proper position). One night, it just struck me to ask you do to the praying. And oh my WORD. I can't believe I've waited this long to hear you pray. I so wish I had recorded what you said because I don't remember everything. I was suffocating under the sheer sweetness of your prayer, and the lack of oxygen prevented me from recalling your prayer. Here's what I do remember you prayed for: Bruce [Daddy's really good friend who's been in the hospital for a long time], books, toys, yeggos [Legos], bean bag chairs, Chaw-yee ("because he's a buh-wito" [we had just swaddled him up like a burrito]), hairbows, and Ita [your imaginary friend].

Speaking of Ita, you talk about her nonSTOP. I haven't the foggiest idea where you came up with her. Sometimes your story changes as to who she (sometimes she's a girl, sometimes she's a grownup, sometimes she's an animal). Lately, Ita is your friend from 'caw-wedge' (college). The past few times we've gone to the park, any girl you see is Ita. And you make a point of calling her Ita and announcing to everyone around that she's your friend from 'caw-wedge'. Needless to say, you get some strange looks from kids at the park.

I know this isn't unique to you, but good heavens you're bossy. You're particularly bossy as to how we play (or 'pway') with you. You want our legs just so (and procede to screech if we deviate from your Approved Leg Position plan). You feed us the words you want us to say (and again, you procede to screech if we deviate from your Approved Script plan). You're also bossy about what you eat.

Me: Here's your snack, baby.
You: Oooh, pwetzels! Yum!
You: [after having only taken one bite of one pretzel] And after dis, I can have another snack.
Me: Um, excuse me? How about we try that again?
You: *sighing* After I eat my pwetzels, can I have another snack?
Me: Much better.

Me: Nat, please finish your dinner. Stop being a slow-poke.
You: After I eat three bites, I can have dessert.
Me: I'm sorry, come again?
You: After I eat three bites of my bwokki (broccoli), I can have a cookie!
Me: That's what I thought you said. Mommy will let you know when you've eaten enough dinner to have a cookie.
You: Okay, after FOUR bites I can have a cookie.
Me: Again, Mommy will let you know when you've eaten enough dinner to have a cookie.
You: I can have a cookie after dinner.
Me: [firmly placing my hand on top of my head to keep it from popping off from the sheer lunacy of our conversation] Do you tell Mommy what you're going to do?
You: No.
Me: So let's try the whole cookie scenario again.

After Daddy and I put you and Charlie to bed, we often run through some of the funny things you say. We can't get over how insanely clever you are. And the things that you say that cause us to pull our hair out in the heat of the moment cause us to giggle like a couple of little girls just a short time later. You getting out of bed to complain to us that your NON-MOVING, NON-ALIVE, STUFFED animals are dilly-dallying and it's preventing you from falling asleep drives me BATTY. But after you've fallen asleep and it's just Daddy and me hanging out in the living room? It's hysterical.

You really like Little Einsteins. It's probably one of the least annoying shows that's out there. Each episode included famous art (I'm assuming it's famous - I don't 'get' art, so I don't know what's famous and what's not) and classical music. You love repeating the names of the composers. And I love hearing you repeat the names of the composers - mostly because you mispronounce them. My favorite so far? Johann Spedastian Bop.

So last month (or maybe two months ago. I can't remember. You and your brother have irreperably damaged my brain.) mentioned how you are the ultimate Back Seat Driver. You screech at me to stop when you see a red light, screech at me to go when you see a green light, get upset when you can't SEE the light, etc. And you're still not happy with the I-Can-Turn-Right-At-A-Red-Light-If-There-Aren't-Any-Cars-Coming rule ("Wed means STOP, Momma! You can't GO!"). This brings us to a week ago. We were playing Red Light, Green Light (for the 12 billionth time that day) and you were Green Light-ing it down the hall when I said "Red Light!". And you kept going. So I said "Red Light!" a little louder. And you kept going. So I said "Hey goofball, 'Red Light!' means stop!". To which you said "I know it was a wed yight, but I was turning wight [right] and dere weren't any cars coming." Wise guy. I can see it now. Fast forward three or four years and Daddy and I are having to go to yet ANOTHER parent-teacher conference because you were a smart-alecky-wise-guy-know-it-all. Daddy and I won't admit it then, but we'll be happy to admit it when you're 30 - your smart aleck-iness, albeit infuriating and exhausting at times, is quite funny. But as far as you need to know, it's infuriating. Now turn away so I can laugh, you funny little smart aleck.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from April 1, 2012:

• Palm Sunday observed around the world
• No fooling: Asteroid zips close by Earth
• One-man town up for sale in Wyoming
• Are you kidding? April Fools' Day on the Internet
• Mega Millions Winners: Identities Not Yet Revealed
• Is It Over Yet? Gingrich Hints at an Alliance

Month 4 - Recap

Sooo, yeah. I know you can't see me glaring at you, but trust me. I am. SOMEbody has decided to stop sleeping through the night. SOMEbody thinks that '1 O'Clock Mommy' is a waaaaaaay fun Mommy. SOMEbody thinks that if he doesn't see me at least twice a night, he's not doing his job as a baby. SOMEbody is wrong. SOMEbody is a crackhead. '1 O'Clock Mommy' is NOT fun. '1 O'Clock Mommy' is un-fun, grumpy, crazy-haired and bleary-eyed. You know who's even un-funner, grumpier and crazier-haired and blearier-eyed than '1 O'Clock Mommy'? '1 O'Clock Mommy AND 3 O'Clock Mommy.' You know who IS fun? 'Mommy Who Has an Infant Who Goes More Than Three Hours Between Night Feedings'. THAT Mommy is refreshed (relatively speaking) and smiley. Perhaps I've neglected in explaining the differences in these two Mommies. But now I have. Now you know. Now go back to sleeping through the night. (I should note that if you hadn't gone almost three weeks of sleeping through the night, I wouldn't be fussing at you for not doing it. But you did do it. So I know you can do it. There's nobody to blame but yourself.)

You are still the drooliest, slobberiest, gnawingest, wet-necked child on the face of the planet. You go through no fewer than three bibs per day. And those are just during the times you're wearing clothes. (It's been so annoyingly warm and humid lately that you've had a lot of time just being in your diaper). I keep checking for teeth, but I don't feel any yet. Maybe you just find your fist tasty. Because goodness knows, I find your toes and cheeks and belly impossibly delicious. Oh, and your dimples. Your dimples are scrumptious.

You've starting curling your arm around my neck when I carry you. I don't think I need to explain just how adorable this is. (But in case I do, here goes: It's ridiculously adorable). You also like holding on to my hair. This is only slightly less adorable, as you have a pretty good grip but haven't yet mastered the art of gently opening your fist to release my hair.

I love watching you watch Natalie. You study her so intently, soaking up all her antics (and trust me, that girl has antics for DAYS). When you cry in your carseat, Natalie usually announces that you're crying because you want to get out and play with your big sister. She's exactly right. I can tell you're just itching to play with her - and vice versa.

You're really excitable. Especially when Daddy, Natalie, or I act silly (which is pretty much all the time). And you're not just 'kind of excited'; you're more like 'yellow lab excited'. You wiggle and squirm and squeal and bounce. Your arms flail, your legs kick. If it weren't for your gargantuan head weighing you down, I'm quite convinced that your moves would cause you to defy gravity, take flight, and zoom around the living room.

Everybody (friends, family, complete strangers) comments on how much you look like Daddy. I hate to say it, but I don't really see it. But I think that's because I'm around you all day. I mean, I think you're heart-wrenching adorable and I find Daddy incredibly cute. So based on that, then yes, you two look alike. I'm enormously lucky to be around such good-lookin' fellas. (Now you say "And I'm enormously to be around such good-lookin' ladies, like you and Natalie". Now I say "You're right. Now you can have a cookie.") Because around this house, I'm not above using cookies to get compliments.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for March 9, 2012:

• Dogs sniff out anti-terror role at London Olympics
• As sea levels rise, whole country eyes move to Fiji
• With tensions high in Mideast, evangelical Christians tighten embrace of Israel
• Bloggers not impressed with Romney's Super Tuesday
• The Perfect Place for Peyton: Seattle
• Spanx creator Sara Blakely becomes youngest woman on Forbes Billionaires List

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 161, 162, 163, 164, & 12, 13, 14, 15

I am SERIOUSLY slacking in posting Smithkids updates. How terrible. To show my remorse, I'll post a picture from this past weekend at the wedding of one of my dear friends from high school. It's not a Smithkid picture, but there would BE no Smithkids if it were not for these two chuckleheads.

February 2012 - Recap

And the Oscar for longest list of bedtime-delay tactics goes to ... you. I had NO idea that a three-year-old could come up with the wackadoo things that you do in order to delay bedtime. You even resort to affection (seriously? I have to practically tackle you to get a kiss, but when it's bedtime, you want kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss. Adorable? Yes. Dirty pool? Oh yes.) Here is a list of things that you've called out to us after we've put you to bed.

• Something's tick-yin (tickling) my feet!
• Ash-yee's (Ashley - your Cabbage Patch Kid) hair is sticking up!!
• My bee-yanket (blanket) is bwoken (broken).
• My ewephant (elephant) won't stop moving (Note: your elephant is a stuffed animal. A non-electronic, non-moving stuffed animal.)
• Yaw-wen Bear (Lauren Bear - your beloved teddy bear) keeps diwwy-dow-ee-ing (dilly-dallying).
• I don't yike (like) gum!!!!!!! (Um, what?)

Most of our responses are "Aw, gee, I'm sorry. Well, good night! We love you!" Shockingly, you don't like our responses.

You and Daddy have started an 'I Love You More Than' game. Allow me to describe:
Daddy: I love you more than ... chocolate cake!
You: [giggling] Nooooo ... rewwy?? (really)
Daddy: Yep!
You: I yuhve you more than ... waisins (raisins)!
Daddy: No way!
You: Yes!!!
Daddy: I love you more than bacon!
You: No way. Dat's siwwy (silly).
Daddy: It's true!!
You: I yuhve you more than ... theeka thouka thacka!!!
Daddy: Um, wow! That's ... uh ... fantastic!!

You've always gotten a kick out of watching me put on my makeup in the morning ("Wow! Those little brushes, tubes, and blocks of color are magic! They make Mommy go from 'Haggard' to 'Haggard with Darker Eyelashes and Rosier Cheeks'. Amazing!"). And you've started asking why I put it on. I have to choose my words carefully, because I don't want to lead you to believe that you can't be pretty or feel pretty without wearing makeup. You got some Dora makeup for your birthday. And by 'makeup', I mean nail polish and lip gloss. You didn't have must interest in it until the past week. Now you're fascinated by it. You paint your toes and fingers no fewer than six times a day. Your toes are truly a work of art. A pink and purple and blue symphony of sparkles. It would be quicker (and have the same outcome) if you just dipped your toes directly into a big bowl of polish. But that'd be too easy. You'll sit on the kitchen floor, and methodically paint each toe (notice I put 'toe' and not just 'toenail'). I have to admit, it makes me giggle. Perhaps I should help you take it off before we go to church (or really anywhere in public), but I just can't bring myself to do it. You're so proud of your handiwork, and really, you're three. This is what you're supposed to be doing. And let's not forget the lip gloss. Ohhhh, the lip gloss. Or, more accurately, Yip Gwoss. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror and lather it on. It's gloppy, it's sticky, it's gooey, it's sparkly. In other words, it's a three-year-old girl's BFF. You look like a hot mess when you're finished, but again, you're so proud of yourself that I can't help but smile.

You've got a pretty good handle on using the certain room in our house for certain bodily functions. Even though it's not really new to you anymore, you still like to sing a "Yay, I did it!" song after you go. What's funny is that you sing the song for me when I go and tell me how proud of I am you are. I have to admit, it's pretty adorable. You also congratulate me for eating my vegetables, for giving Daddy a hug, and for emptying the dishwasher. Having you around is like having my own little personal cheerleader.

I lost my temper at you the other day. I'm not one of those parents who can keep their cool in every situation and only respond to Toddler Rudeness (and not react), but the other day was cuh-RAZY. I was sleep-deprived (I'm glaring at your brother right now) and you woke up unnaturally early that day - so we were both on edge. I won't go into details what I freaked out over, but after we had both calmed down, I came to you and apologized for yelling. You smiled, grabbed my face in your hands, and simply said "You're forgiven, Mommy!". Then you asked me to play Candy Land. Your forgiveness was so simple, yet so kind. Daddy and I try really hard to teach you to apologize and we make a big deal about forgiveness. It's been a great avenue to introduce you to the way God forgives us. And when you said "You're forgiven" and immediately forgot about it and wanted to play Candy Land, it was a beautiful picture of how easily and quickly God forgives us when we confess our wrongdoings. You didn't hold it over my head and neither does God. Thank you, my precious girl, for giving me glimpses of our God. Sometimes I get so caught up in being a Mommy and a wife that I forget that first and foremost, I'm a child of God. And you, sweet girl, are an unparalleled blessing.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from March 1, 2012:

• More twisters in forecast as survivors recount ordeal
• Prosecutors: Jerry Sandusky's alleged victims as young as 8
• Women donate 'dining out' money to women globally
• Romney, Santorum fight for Super Tuesday prize
• Coroner: Davy Jones died of heart attack
• Jaleel White of 'Family Matters' joins 'Dancing With the Stars' cast: Who are you rooting for?

Month 3 - Recap

My darling baby boy,
To put it simply: you, little sir, rock. For realz. (I know, I know - I'm too old and too unhip to end letters in a "z". Too bad. Get used to it.) You started smiling well before I thought you were going to. And you've started a pretty decent sleeping schedule. I wasn't expecting you to do 7-and-8-hour stretches until you were a lot older. Of course, now that I've put it into writing, you'll go back to waking up 3 and 4 times a night. Dang. Me and my big mouth (fingers).

For a big-headed baby, you've got pretty good head control now. You haven't clocked me in the jaw from your crazy, errant head-bobbing in at least a week. And again, now that I've put it into writing, you'll go back to jaw-clocking. Dang again.

I'm still not quite able to figure out your typical routine. You usually go to sleep around 9:00p and wake up around 5a. After you eat, you usually sleep until 7 or 7:30a. But after that, it's anybody's guess. Sometimes you go a few hours before taking another nap. Other days, you take a 3 hour nap after your 7am feeding. Sometimes you nap while Natalie naps, but that doesn't happen very often (note: I typed that really grumpily, but you couldn't tell). I was hoping that if I delayed your last feeding till 10p, you'd sleep till 5:30 or 6:00a, but no dice. It seems like regardless of what time I feed you, you wake up at 4:30 or 5. That's certainly fine and I'm not complaining at ALL, but I struggle with what to do after I feed you. It seems silly to go back to sleep for another hour, but 4:30 or 4:45 is awfully early to start my day. Is that extra hour going to really make me feel really refreshed? Probably not. But, again, 4:45a is awfully early. I say all that, but in reality, I know your schedule will change many, many times over the next year or two. So really, I should just hush and enjoy the uninterrupted sleep I'm getting.

You're very drooly. I don't remember Natalie drooling as much as you do. Then again, perhaps Natalie DID drool - it was just masked by the excessive amounts of vomit that she regular shot out of her mouth. Anyway - back to you. Maybe you're an early teether, maybe you produce more saliva than your little mouth can handle, or maybe you just severely lack social graces. Whatever it is, you have a very wet chin.

I made the leap and decided to cut (most) dairy out of my diet, hoping that will help your stomach feel better. I cut out milk, cheese, yogurt, and ice cream. I wouldn't do this for just anyone, kid. Because really, mommy loves her dairy. Mommy misses her dairy. But Mommy loves you more. (If you need to wipe a tear away, you may do so now). Thankfully, the lack of dairy seems to really help you. You don't cry (much) after I feed you anymore (unless I accidentally cut your feeding short ... THEN you get maaaaaaaaaaad) and you seem a lot more content.

You are fascinated by Natalie. She provides endless entertainment for you. She doesn't even have to be doing something that involves you; you just really like watching her. She likes to lean over your bassinet and squeal in your face. It's only made you cry once; those seem to be pretty good odds. I can tell you're just itching to play with her and swap stories about how hopelessly lame Daddy and I are. (It's okay, though. Daddy and I think we're cool. And that's all that matters.)

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for February 9, 2012:

• Laptop-shooting dad, after 21 million views, says he'd do it over again
• Romney breaks losing streak, wins Maine caucuses
• Meet Blue Ivy! Beyonce and Jay-Z share first baby photos
• Induced labor lets dying Texas man see daughter
• Burglar breaks in, folds clothes, cooks dinner

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 157, 158, 159, 160 & 8, 9, 10, 11

Soooo ... yeah, it's winter. Apparently. I mean, the calendar SAYS it's February, but in all honesty, it feels like May. It's mild, humid, and ANNOYING. This post-baby-body wants (NEEDS) it to be sweater-and-all-things-bulky weather.

Anywho. It's been really rainy here lately, and I am the proud momma of a girl who loves playing in the rain. Having a soggy, dirty, muddy kid is just not a battle worth fighting. See how happy it makes her?

You might faint when you see this smile. I understand.

This about sums up how we roll in the Land o' Team Smith

Getting some help from Daddy to blow out her birthday candles

There she is folks. My dainty eater.

Bounce houses are the BEST

Singing to me

:D

Sweet Charlie Bear

January 2012 - Recap

My sweet Natters,
So I didn't think I'd have to worry about this for at LEAST 10 years, but you, my darling, have become quite the backseat driver. Like, for REAL. You know that green means 'go', yellow means 'caution', and that red means 'stop'. That's where your knowledge ends, but that sure as heck doesn't stop you from telling me how to drive. If you see a red light, you screech "Stop, Momma!" I have a hard time explaining that while a red light DOES mean 'stop', it doesn't, however, mean you should stop as soon as you see the red light (especially if you have another 500 feet to go before getting to the aforementioned red light. And that while a green light DOES mean 'go', I can't GO anywhere if the car in front of me hasn't GONE yet. And the whole 'turn-right-on-red' thing causes you to flip your lid. "Momma, that yight was WED!!! You can't GO when da yight is WED! You can GO when da yight is GWEEN! Momma, stop going!! STOPPPPPPPPPP!!!") And if we're at a red light, you repeat "still a wed yight" over and over and over again until the light turns green. Then you screech "GO MOMMA!" I'm considering having someone install the kind of retractable privacy panel that limos have. You're three. Be three. Focus on playing with your Magna Doodle, eating your raisins, and singing Jesus Yuhves Me. Leave the driving to the person who's tall enough to reach the pedals. And, you know, actually taken a driving class.

You love telling and hearing jokes. Especially knock-knock jokes. You think the "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Boo." "Boo who?" "Don't cry!" is the funniest joke EVER. After we do that joke a few times, you think it's awesome when we do the "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Orange." Orange who?" "Orange you glad I didn't say 'Boo!'!" joke. Another one of your favorites in the Interrupting Cow joke (it's my personal favorite).

Me: Knock knock.
You: Who's there?
Me: Interrupting cow.
You: Interrup---
Me: MOO!
You: [cue hysterics]

You haven't quite mastered the finesse and timing of joke telling. Here's how the above jokes often go:

You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Oh-wange.
Me: Orange who?
You: Don't cwy!
Um, okay. I won't cry.

You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Intewupting cow.
Me: Interrupting cow who?
You: MOO!
Hm. Not really an 'interrupting cow'. More like 'very polite cow'.

You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Intewupting cow. MOO!
Hmph. Didn't even give me the chance to do MY part.

You: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
You: Intewupting cow.
Me: Interrupting cow who?
You: Intewupting cow you gwad I didn't say boo!
Wait, what?

You frequently like to ask Daddy and me how our day was. Sometimes you ask while we're eating breakfast, so there's really not a whole lot of information to share. Other times, you ask before bedtime, and we have lots to share. Depending on how creative my brain is feeling, I either tell you about the fantastically wonderful adventures I did (I climbed a mountain, I painted a masterpiece, I flew an airplane) or the completely true albeit slightly dull adventures (I brushed my teeth, I got dressed, I filled the van up with gas). You're fascinated by what Daddy does at work. You listen so intently when Daddy tells you how his day was, and ask all sorts of questions. You want to know the names of everyone in his meeting, the names of who he talked to on the phone, what each email was about, etc. It's really, really funny. When Daddy or I ask you how YOUR day was, this is how the conversation goes:

Daddy: How was your day, Natalie?
You: Gweat! [great!]
Daddy: What did you do?
You: Wellllllll ... I wote [wrote] some paper-woke [paperwork].
Daddy: What kind of paperwork?
You: Oh, you know, just weh-gue-yer [regular] paper-woke.
Daddy: Ah, I see. What else did you do today?
You: Ummmm, I had six meetings in five days.
Daddy: Wow! That's a lot of meetings!
You: Yots and YOTS of meetings!
Daddy: Did you do anything else today?
You: Yep. I talked to some phone calls.
Daddy: Oh yeah? Who?
You: Um, just some people I woke [work] with.
Daddy: What are their names?
You: Um ... Mommy ... and Daddy ... and Naydon [this is a name that you pulled out of thin air a few months ago. You think it's the best name ever.]
Daddy: That sounds like a lot of fun!
You: Yep! And then I came home to you!

So you're probably going to be embarrassed that I put this on the Internet, but, well, let's face it: if I don't embarrass you at least once a month, I get a nasty letter from the National Associations of Mothers. And my ego is fragile; I don't want a nasty letter. But to minimize the embarrassment, I'll be vague. Hmm. Let's see how to put this. You finally did, um ... something ... in, um, ... a certain receptacle in a certain room in the house. Yes, you were three before you used the, um, certain receptacle. But you know what? As much as I wanted you to be ready well (WELL) before you turned three, YOU weren't ready. And regardless of how much *I* wanted you to be ready, deep down I knew that didn't matter at all. Until YOU decided to be ready, it would be a futile effort. I tried to bribe you with certain articles of clothing ... specifically, certain articles of clothing plastered with Minnie Mouse's and Hello Kitty's faces. But again, until YOU decided to be ready, you just looked at these certain articles of clothing with something that can only be described as 'disdain'. Until recently. One day, I asked you if you were ready, and lo and behold, you said you were. The disadvantage of you being three before using the aforementioned receptacle is that I spent a lot more on diapers than other moms. The advantage of you being three before using the aforementioned receptacle is that I probably have to deal with a lot fewer accidents. Once you got it, you really got it. You don't run to the aforementioned certain room. You say "Hey Mommy, I gotta go." And you walk calmly (or as calmly as a crackhead three-year-old can walk) to the bathr-- shoot, I meant the 'aforementioned certain room'. I broke the cardinal rule of rewarding successful trips to this aforementioned room by giving you a piece of chocolate for your first successful trip. I know, I know - mothers everywhere are rolling their eyes at me. "Don't you DARE give her chocolate! She'll come to expect it every time she goes! And when she DOESN'T get it, she'll regress and have more accidents." Whoops. My bad. Thankfully though, you seem okay with not getting a treat every time you go. You were pretty bummed at first, but I appealed to your right-brain-ness and explained how you can't have chocolate all the time. Chocolate is only a sometimes food. You'll get sick if you have chocolate every time you go. You seemed to buy it. Ha.

You had Charlie had your first 'conversation' a few days ago. First off, he thinks you ROCK. He fusses if he's in a position to where he can't see you; his eyes twinkle when you talk to him. For your conversation, he started cooing and you cooed back. Then he cooed some more. Then you did some more. Back and forth. Back and forth some more. My heart practically exploded from the cuteness overload.

You had your birthday party a few weeks ago. It was more than what we would normally do for a birthday party, but since you've had your world turned on its ear recently, and a lot of attention has been directed towards Charlie, Daddy and I really wanted you to have a day that was all about you. The Day o' Natalie was a rousing success. I'm kind of bummed because I highly doubt you'll even remember this party when you're older, but trust me - you had a blast. You bounced, you jumped, you slid, you played with dolls, you giggled incessantly, and you ate too much sugar. It was perfect, and just what Daddy and I wanted to do. But don't think that you're gonna have a party like that every year. Unless you get a job and help to foot the bill. Maybe Publix would hire you to taste test their sprinkle cookies. In addition to being a fantastic kid, you're also a top-notch cookie eater.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for February 1, 2012:

• Romney grabs a decisive win in Florida
• 1 million birth control packets recalled: 'unintended pregnancy'
• 11th victim found days after deadly Fla. crash
• McDonald's drops use of gooey 'pink slime' in meat
• Breaking down Super Bowl XLVI
• As Facebook prepares to go public, investors wonder whether Zuckerberg has a twist in store

Month 2 - Recap

My sweet little fuzzy-headed munchkin,
I had forgotten the world of difference there is between a one-month-old and a two-month-old. And now I remember! You've definitely woken up from your 'newborn hibernation thing' that you had going for the first month. You're so alert, and we love watching you check out the world around you. Your favorite things to look at are the ceiling fan, the lamp, and Natalie. I won't say which one, but one of those three is a humongous ham and gives you awesome material to check out. You've started cooing (are you KIDDING me with the cuteness?) and I got your first purposeful smile on Natalie's 3rd birthday!

You're still a Snort Fest when you sleep, but I think you're doing it less than you were last month. Or maybe I'm just getting used to it. It's funny to think that the sound of a herd (flock? group? gaggle?) of feral pigs might not even register with me anymore.

We gave you a bottle for the first time this month. And, if I were more observant, we wouldn't have had such a disastrous time for your inaugural bottle. When the package of bottle nipples says it's for babies who are 3-6 months old, it wasn't kidding. Just because you can wear 3-6 month clothing doesn't mean you can drink like a 3-6 month old. Once I gave you a more age-appropriate bottle nipple, you were much happier. Which means that Daddy and I got to have our first post-you date (you'll soon realize that Daddy and I love our dates).

You had your well-baby appointment this month. Your height is in the 75th percentile; your weight is in the 50th percentile. And, in keeping with the Smithkid tradition, your head is in the 95th percentile. You handled your shots like a champ, but they turned you into a Grumpasaurus for the next three days.

You're sleeping better at night (those dimples of yours were SO your saving grace when you were getting up 3 and 4 times a night). I feed you around 9pm and you usually start fussing around 2. Daddy or I will usually go into your room and rock you in your bassinet, trying to get you to go back to sleep for another hour or so. After that feeding, you sometimes sleep until 6 or 6:30. Other times, you wake up again (totally STARVING, of course [insert eyeroll]) at 4:30. I can totally function the next day with you getting up once a night. My ability to function goes down exponentially with every subsequent time you get up. I hate to put a guilt trip on someone who just learned to hold his head up, but ... well ... there ya go.

I can't express how I love you. You make my heart melt. You like to snuggle, you make awesome faces, and you've only peed on me twice.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for January 9, 2012:

• Alaska town hit by 18 feet of snow
• Excedrin, Bufferin recalled over mislabeled pills
• Giffords leads vigil as Arizona marks shootings
• Locals call BP's feel-good Gulf ads 'propaganda'
• Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s Security Prevented Man from Visiting His Twins at Hospital, He Claims
• Joe Paterno's Son Speaks Out

Weekly Smithkids - Week 156 and Week 8

Enjoying her birthday cupcake

Hooray! A purposeful smile!!!

20 Questions from a Three-Year-Old

My sister was perusing Pinterest (our latest favorite time-suck) and she came across a scrapbook page done by a mom who asked her three-year-old daughter 20 questions. Each year, on the girl's birthday, her mom would ask her the same 20 questions. She thinks it'll be cool to see how her daughter's answers change from year to year.

So, in keeping with true Pinterest fashion, I'm stealing the idea.

I asked Natalie these 20 questions on her third birthday:

1. What is your favorite color? Yellow
   
2. What is your favorite toy? Fishing rod
   
3. What is your favorite fruit? Apples and strawberries and oranges
   
4. What is your favorite TV show? Little Einsteins
   
5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? Cheese
   
6. What is your favorite outfit? Shirt and pants
   
7. What is your favorite game? Hungry Hungry Hippos
   
8. What is your favorite snack? Granola bar
   
9. What is your favorite animal? Doggies
   
10. What is your favorite song? Silent Night
    
11. What is your favorite book? Moo Baa La La La
    
12. Who is your best friend? Eliana
    
13. What is your favorite cereal? Banana and milk cereal
    
14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? Play ball
    
15. What is your favorite drink? Water
    
16. What is your favorite holiday? Easter
    
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? Elephant and Lauren Bear
    
18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? Banana
    
19. What do you want for dinner on your birthday? Blueberries
    
20. What do you want to be when you grow up? A princess

I can't wait to see what she'll say when she turns 4. Here's hoping she picks another answer for #20 ...

2011 - Year End Review

Happy 3rd Birthday, my sweet girl!

You just keep getting cooler and cooler, and keeping up with you is getting harder and harder. I can't believe how much you've changed this year! In keeping with last year's recap, I'll now present several Top 10 lists.

Top 10 Things You Love:

1. Bubble Guppies
2. Little Einsteins
3. Playing outside
4. Making up stories
5. Singing
6. Charlie
7. Playing Chutes and Ladders, Candy Land, Uno Moo, and Hungry Hungry Hippos
   
8. Christmas lights
9. Reading
10. Your doctor kit
    

Top 10 Things You Don't Love:

1. Chili
2. Brushing your teeth
3. Getting your hair brushed (by me)
4. Using your indoor voice
5. Being quiet when someone's on the phone
6. When I don't get you from your nap when you wake up in a grumpy mood (our rule is that if you wake up grumpy from your nap, you didn't sleep long enough. So you either have to go back to sleep or you have to play in your room until you un-grump yourself)
7. Bringing your table and chair into the kitchen for mealtime (you always try to farm out that chore to whoever you can. Except me. You rarely ask me to do it because I (most) always say 'no'. Daddy, Bob, and Pep on the other hand ....)
8. Going to sleep (even though you tell us every day that you don't like to go to sleep, you're usually fast asleep in mere minutes after your head hits the pillow)
9. Time out (duh)
10. Soda (I think this is mostly my doing - I've told you from an early age that you don't like it. And you believed me. Score one for Mommy!)
    

Top 10 Things You're Good At:

1. Singing
2. Going to school (you're not always happy when I drop you off, but you always cheer up quickly and always have a great time)
3. Writing the letter L
4. Spelling your name
5. Memorizing song lyrics
6. Being a big sister
7. Eating
8. Sleeping
9. Using your manners
10. Making everyone around you laugh
    

Top 10 Things You're Not Good At:

1. Sitting still at a restaurant (Daddy and i take turns running around with you outside)
2. Trying new food (you'll do it, but not before making a MAJOR stink about it)
3. Being polite when you're hungry or tired
4. Leaving things at home when we run errands ("Momma, I HAVE to bwing my baseball and my doll stwoller and dis piece of stwing and dis spoon with us to Target! I HAVE to!")
5. Folding clothes (climbing into the basket of clean clothes and throwing underwear around the living room is NOT helping me fold clothes)
6. Keeping a straight face (when you pretend to be grumpy, you last about 2 nanoseconds before you burst out laughing)
7. Sleeping normally (you start out the night with your head on the pillow and your blankets pulled up around you. But you never ever end up in a normal position. You change positions approximately 75 times throughout the night. Sometimes you've got your feet the pillow, sometimes you've got your knees on the floor and your head on the bed, sometimes you've got your body on the bed and your head hanging off the side, sometimes you're curled up into a ball, sometimes you're splayed out at the foot of your bed. Seriously, even IF we wanted toco-sleep with you, it'd be impossible unless there was a mattress size that was 10 times the size of a California king and even then, Daddy and I would probably still get karate chopped in the head.)
8. Okay, so I've run out of things you're not good at. Stop being so smart and maybe I can think of some more.
   

From January 2011 to December 2011, you've gone from someone who only said 20 words to someone with a limitless (and hilarious) vocabulary. (Not two days ago, you came up to me and touched the area between my nose and my lips. You said - and I kid you not - "I just booped you in your filtrum!"). You've gone from someone who had all the potential (and gene pool) to be a nerd to someone who is, in fact, a certifiable nerd. (You talk about how circles don't have any angles; you talk about what things are vertical and what things are horizontal; you often say "Yet's talk about things that are [red/hot/tall/old/happy/other random adjective]). You've gone from someone who fusses and whines when she can't properly express herself to someone who can come up to me and say "Momma, I'm sad. Yet's talk about it." (Granted, you still fuss and whine at times, but I love that you can tell us how you're feeling). You've gone from being an only child to being the best big sister that Charlie Bear (and Daddy and I) could have ever hoped for. You've gone from someone who needed prompting to do just about everything to someone who (sometimes) puts her cereal bowl on the counter without being asked. You've gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in an actual bed. You've gone from being ambidextrous to ... still being ambidextrous. We haven't the foggiest idea which hand you'll use.

You're an amazing little girl. You're remarkably tuned in to other people's feelings, you have an uncanny ability to turn ANY phrase into a song (you inheirited that ability from Bob), and, unfortunately, and the ripe ol' age of 3, you're far smarter than either Daddy or me. It's kind of annoying. You're incredibly sensitive, practically becoming inconsolable when one of your friends gets in trouble. You're tirelessly curious, wanting to know what EVERYthing is and what EVERYthing does and what EVERY person's name is. You perhaps have a severe hearing problem because you ask the exact same question over and over and over and over and over and over again. You perhaps do NOT have a severe hearing problem because you hear me grumble something quietly under my breath and immediately squawk "What you say, Momma? What you SAY???!!!". You perhaps have a severe vision problem because you're incapable of finding your shoes when they're 1 nanometer from where you're sitting. You perhaps do NOT have a severe vision problem because you able to find scissors/a lighter/the annoying book we've read 1000 times/cookies even when we try to put them out of your field of vision. Leave our cookies alone, ya hear?

You, you talkative, expressive, helpful, singing, sensitive, curious girl with-or-perhaps-without a severe hearing and/or vision problem are simply astounding. Daddy and I the luckiest parents in the history of the world. To watch you grow and learn is an honor of the highest order. But seriously, leave our cookies alone.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

December 2011 - Natalie Recap

Sweet Puddin' Pop,
Oh wait, I didn't tell you that I call you Puddin' Pop? Well I do. And you call me Butterscotch Puddin' Pop. And it's pretty embarrassing to admit this, but these nicknames are from a cartoon you love. Bubble Guppies, to be exact. What's even more embarrassing to admit is that these nicknames are the names of a mommy cow and her baby cow (don't ask how there can be cows [complete with fish tails] in a show about mer-children; it's one of the many, many, MANY things that make zero logistical sense about the show).

Daddy has started not bringing anything with him when he walks in the door in the evenings. His briefcase just gets in the way when Toddler Road Runner (that'd be you) bombards him at full speed. He can't even get the door shut before you (sweetly but oh my GOSH so loudly) ask him to play Pillow Fight on the bed. Pretty much regardless of the day he's had, because he's an awesome daddy, he plays right along with you and races you to our bedroom. I usually stay in the living room with Charlie to let you two get some quality Daddy-Nattie time. A few weeks ago, you decided that an even BETTER game than Pillow Fight is something you call Smacky Wacky. How it's different from Pillow Fight escapes me. The only difference I see is that when you two hit each other with pillows, you say "Smacky Wacky". And this causes you to lose your noodle with laughter.

Speaking of quality Daddy-Nattie time, you two have had a lot of time together over the past two months. Taking care of a newborn is fairly time-consuming, and as much as I'm bummed we don't get to hang out as much as we did before, I'm over-the-moon that you and Daddy have had some serious quality time. You two go to the grocery store a lot (and you're ZERO help with making sure Daddy sticks to the list and doesn't end up getting chips and cookies). You also do a lot of projects together - washing the cars, cleaning the garage, and discovering the latest happenings with the Guppies.

Three random, but nevertheless funny things - you call Nilla Wafers "Banilla Wipers", you call a thermometer a "fur-MAH-the-ter", and, according to you, Charlie's full name is Chaw-yee Bear Ee-yi-juh Smith.

Hey, I've got a question for you! Did you know it's easy for an almost-three-year-old to partially dislocate her elbow? And that it can pop back into place as the Urgent Care x-ray tech puts the almost-three-year-old's arm on the x-ray table? It is. And it can. [And did the mother of the aforementioned almost-three-year-old know that the aforementioned almost-three-year-old would get not one, not two, not three, but FOUR lollipops to keep her happy while she was in the x-ray room? She did NOT. She DID, however, keep her snarky comments about how the aforementioned almost-three-year-old has probably only had four lollipops in her entire LIFE before that day and that she would be sending the dental bill for the aforementioned-almost-three-year-old to the x-ray tech.]

Having a newborn, having inSANE nursing-related issues from practically Day 1, and it being so close to Christmas has meant that Bob and Pep have spent a lot of time at our house helping me out. Lately, I've noticed Pep and you have a little routine when he comes over. He gets a comb from your bathroom and sits down on the living room floor. You hop into his lap, and he combs your hair. It's pretty dang adorable. And pretty dang annoying. Because when you see ME come toward you with a comb, you immediately begin freaking out and insisting that you don't NEED your hair combed. You don't NEED a hairbow. It all HURTS. And it all FWUSTWATES you so you're gonna fold your AHMS at me. But when Pep does it? Yeah, it's the best thing ever. Yeah, you're a punk.

Your latest favorite game to play (other than Smacky Wacky, of course) is Hide-and-Seek. I had no idea how much fun playing Hide-and-Seek with an almost-three-year-old is. When it's your turn to be the Seeker, you dutifully cover your eyes and count to 10. You don't even seem to peek (at least I don't think you do). You've got the Seeker job down pat. Now the Hider job? You could use a little work. Actually don't. Don't work on it. You're a hilarious Hider. When I close my eyes and count to 10, you often tell me to count slower because you haven't gotten to your hiding place in [insert hiding place here]. And when I say "Ready or not, here I come!", you say "Momma! I'm in da [insert hiding place here]!!!" And when I come to the [insert hiding place here], the look on your face is priceless. You're legitimately surprised that I found you. You look like I'm the best Seeker EVER. And it's AWESOME. So yeah, don't ever become a better Hider.

My sweet little Puddin' Pop, I can't believe this is your last recap before you turn three. Because I'm pretty sure I gave birth to you yesterday. But that's silly. Because if I were to EVER give birth to a 37-pound baby, I certainly wouldn't be able (or alive) to write a hilariously witty (or mildly amusing) monthly recap. Thanks for rocking my world for the past three years. I had no idea that my world, in fact, NEEDED rocking. But it did. In a big way. And you did it.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for January 1, 2012:

• Poll: Romney has slight lead over Paul in Iowa ahead of caucuses
• Times Square, world ring in 2012
• Woman donates kidney to her former boss
• Stolen monkey found scared but healthy
• Forecasters see bumpy ride, but better 2012
• Cops: Man tried to use $1,000,000 bill at Walmart
  
  

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 154 and 155 and Weeks 6 and 7

Merry Christmas from Team Smith! I hope you and yours had a joyful day.

Charlie Bear's first Christmas!

The $1 jump rope in Natalie's stocking proved to be the best present.
Girlfriend NEVER tired of trying to clear the rope.
(Note: she was only successful once, but kept a smile the whole time)

Puzzle time with Bob

I love him too

Not purposeful (yet), but still so sweet

Natalie was playing the Charlie guitar :)

Weekly Smithkids - Week 153 and Week 5

Cookie Decorating Time at the Smith house

You might need to see the dentist after looking at this picture

How Charlie spent Cookie Decorating Time. Lazy.

Month 1 - Recap

Hooray! We all survived your first month! (Not that there was any doubt, but still, it's nice to survive something as world-changing as a new baby).

I'm going to try really hard not to spend your recaps comparing you to your sister. Not that I would ever (consciously) do that in a negative light (NATALIE did this when she was a baby; why aren't YOU?), but I want you to have your own recap, with your own (embarrassing) stories. You've got a little grace period, however, because newborns hardly ever do anything embarrassing (... besides peeing on your shoulder. You did that, by the way. Daddy and I may or may not have laughed.)

Here are my observations thus far:
You love being swaddled, you love your bassinet, and you love being outside. You don't like laying flat, so I'm wondering how moving you to your crib in your room will pan out. You are the sneeziest, snore-iest, snortiest, and hiccup-iest baby I've ever seen. You typically sneeze in triplicate and get the hiccups no fewer than twice a day. I think part of your sneeziness and snortiness might be due to your swollen nasal cavities. At your two-week checkup, Daddy and I mentioned how your nostrils seem small. She agreed and said they looked pretty swollen. We've started using nose drops on you in the hopes it'll open your nose up a bit. You eat a LOT. I'm not fighting it, because I don't think putting a one-month old on a feeding schedule is any kind of possible. But I'm hoping in the next month or so, you'll learn to be more efficient with your nursing. I try not to let you go more than 2 hours in between feedings during the day, trying to fill you up so that you'll sleep well at night. It doesn't work. You're like a teenager - you sleep all day and party all night. I feed you between 9 and 10pm and you can usually make it until 12:00am or 1am. That's your 'long' stretch. Har. After that feeding, however, it's anybody's guess as to when you'll be hungry again. Sometimes it's 2am. Other times it's 4am. (Side note: I know you don't know how to tell time, but 4am is waaaaay better).

You have reflux. Not even a hundredth of the degree that Natalie had (in other words, I'm not covered in baby vomit 24/7), but you seem to be in pain after every feeding. I'm hoping

Zantac will help reduce the time each nursing session takes (nursing + burping), because an hour is a wee much. Just a wee.

Your Daddy rocks (hopefully you're well aware of this when you actually read this). After your last feeding at night, I go to sleep in our bed while Daddy sleeps on the floor in your room. He does a great job at trying to get you to go a long stretch before your next feeding. He'll rock you, he'll turn on the hair dryer (side note: you're really comforted by the sound of the hair dryer), he'll put you in the swing, he'll do whatever he can think of just so I can get at least 3 or 3.5 hours of sleep in a row. See? He rocks. After the next feeding, Daddy goes back to our bed and I sleep on the floor in your room. Wearing earplugs. Because on my GOSH, you're so noisy. (I know I could sleep in my own room and just go get you when you start to fuss, but you sleep so lightly at night that you wake up a lot. So if I'm only inches from your basinet, I can stay half-asleep while I rock you. And I know I could sleep in my own room and move you to our room so that I'd still only be inches from your bassinet, but I want Daddy to get a long stretch of uninterrupted sleep since he has to go to work in the morning.) Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you just start sleeping 5 hours at night consistently. Then Daddy and I can sleep in the same bed and neither one of us has to sleep on the floor. Sound good? Good.

Instead of having your 2-week growth spurt in one or two days, you dragged it out for over a week. Survey says? NOT cool. I'd much prefer a rough 24-36 hr stretch instead of a rough 5-hr stretch every day for 9 days. Perhaps you could change your method for your 6-week growth spurt. I'd hate to have to return you to Baptist Hospital for being defective. I'll find the receipt, trust me.

I know you're a boy and you won't want to read something like this about your mom when you're older, but it must be said. So I'll just put three words. Mastitis. Thrush. OhmygoshohmygoshohmyGOSHpain.

Your head gets patted a lot by Natalie - it's her favorite thing to do with you. I'm not sure if she thinks a genie will pop out of your head or what, but your head is never lonely. It's actually pretty adorable and you don't seem to mind at all, so it's a win-win situation. She's a pretty great big sister - she's only yelled at you twice to stop crying. I had to politely remind her that yelling at you doesn't do any good. If it had worked, though, I might have given her $5. But, alas, it didn't.

I seriously can't wait for your first purposeful smile. You do a lot of milk-coma-smiles, and if your actual smile is even a tenth of the cuteness of your milk-coma one, I might, in fact, have a tiny heart attack. Your dimples are simply delicious. As are your feet. And your neck. And your belly. I thank God so often for you. You're simply magnificient, my sweet Charlie Bear.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for December 9, 2011

• Secret Santas pay strangers’ layaway bills at Kmart
• Injured model sees face after propeller injury
• Police: Virginia Tech gunman acted alone
• Romney Hints at Gingrich Face-Off
• Osama Bin Laden's Wives to Go Free

Weekly Smithkids - Week 152 and Week 4

Charlie is fairly allergic to sleeping flat on his back,
so this is a rare shotMy Nataroo, one month before she turns the big 0-3

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 148-151 and Week 3

As if I was bad enough trying to get a weekly recap for Natalie done on time, I'm now combining Natalie's and Charlie's weekly recap into one recap. Hopefully their recaps will be done more than quarterly ...

Me and my baby boy

The new 4-membered Team Smith

Holding 'Baby Chaw-yee'

Charlie Bear!

Feeding Charlie some ketchup - such a good big sister

All dressed up for Thanksgiving!

Smooches :D

He gets a little lazy during Tummy Time

Super duper cheeseball

November 2011 - Recap

My dear sweet Big Sister o' Charlie Bear,
You're all about schedules. You like to know what we're doing each day, and in what order we're doing them. Sometimes I show you a picture schedule; lately, though, I just tick things off on my fingers. Well you, my little master negotiator, have started ticking things on YOUR fingers to change the schedule. Case in point:

Me: Nat, it's time for a bath.
You: What's after bath? (actually it's more like WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I don't WANT to take a bath!!! *continued wailing and gnashing of teeth for 10 minutes* THEN you ask what's going to happen after the bath)
Me: (ticking off on my fingers) Take a bath, put on jammies, brush your teeth, read a story, go to sleep.
You: (ticking off on YOUR fingers) Pway (play), bath, jammies, book, seep. We pway first and I don't need to bwush my teeth.
Me: (glaring at Daddy because he's practically falling off the couch from laughing so hard at the exchange between us)

Your life is one big musical, with "Jesus Loves Me" as your theme song. Seriously, if there's a millisecond of quiet, you immediately fill it with song. I don't know if you're uncomfortable with silence or if you think Daddy and I are uncomfortable with silence, but it's like you feel every waking second of the day needs to be filled with talking, singing, or some other noise. Case in point, let's revisit the above scenario.

Me: Nat, it's time for a bath.
You: What's after bath? (actually it's more like WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I don't WANT to take a bath!!! *continued wailing and gnashing of teeth for 10 minutes* THEN you ask what's going to happen after the bath)
Me: (ticking off on my fingers) Take a bath, put on jammies, brush your teeth, read a story, go to sleep.
You: (ticking off on YOUR fingers) Pway (play), bath, jammies, book, seep. We pway first and I don't need to bwush my teeth.
Me: (glaring at Daddy because he's practically falling off the couch from laughing so hard at the exchange between us)
Me: Come on kid, scoot it to the bathtub.
You: (as you're walking to the bathroom) WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! (cue tears, gnashing teeth, and general discontent)
(2 nanoseconds later)
You: JESUS YUHVES ME! DIS I KNOW! FOR DA BIBLE TELLS ME SO!
(2 nanoseconds later)
You: (remembering that you're mad about taking a bath) WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
(2 nanoseconds later)
You: YITTLE ONES TO HIM BEYONG. DEY ARE WEAK BUT HE IS STWONG!
Me: (my head explodes trying to keep up with whether you're about to be mad or prepare for an encore)

Speaking of Jesus Loves Me, you like to change the lyrics to that song. Perhaps Daddy and I (mainly me, cuz I'm probably nerdier than Daddy) use too many grown-up words with you, but something I often say to you (like when you're in the middle of one of your AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! fits) is "Natalie, your attitude is completely unacceptable. Please act like a big girl." Well you, my little Creative License-r, decided to sing "DIS is unacceptaBLE! Dis is UNacceptable! DIS is unacceptaBLE! DIS IS UNACCEPTABLE", all sung to the tune of Jesus Loves Me. Mmmmm, this humble pie sure is tasty.

You like to sing the blessing before we eat - it's the song you sing before lunch at Mother's Day Out every Tuesday. It's ridiculously adorable. There's a part that goes "We will ask your blessing", but with your awesome lack of L-pronounciation, it sounds like "We will ask your be-yessing".


I almost feel like I've run out of things to teach you. I've actually felt this way for almost a year now. You picked up on shapes, colors, letters, and numbers so quickly that I'm not sure what's next. Algebra? The Dewey Decimal System? The 50 states in alphabetical order? I've been floundering for a while and then I remembered some advice from a friend who said to teach you my phone number and Daddy's phone number. Well it took a grand total of 30 minutes before you could easily repeat our phone numbers. The speed with which you can memorize something absolute floors me. You also know how to spell your whole name. Again with the flooring of your mother.

The biggest news this month is that you became a big sister. Wait, I take that back. You like to remind me that you've already BEEN a big sister for the past 9 months. (Excellent point, kid). I'll rephrase: This month, you became a big sister to someone who doesn't live in Mommy's belly anymore. You've done remarkably well for having your world turned on its ear. You're a great big sister to "Baby Chaw-yee". You like to tell Charlie 'good morning' when you come into the living room each morning, you like to point out his tiny features (specifically his fingers and nose), and you like to show him your books, toys, and stuffed animals. You also like to to tickle him - and you're totally impressed when he responds to your tickling (even if his response is just a snort or a wiggle). You don't like it when he cries, but Daddy and I try to remind you that Charlie doesn't know how to say "I'm hungry" or "I'm tired"; all he knows how to do is cry. Sometimes, though, when he cries, instead of getting panicky, you come up to his bassinet and say "It's okay, buddy! Don't cwy!" You're a great helper - you ask to throw his diaper away, you bring him a stuffed animal when he cries, you boop his nose when you feel it needs booping (which is often). Periodically throughout the day, you like to come up to Charlie, give his soft head a little rub, then continue on to your destination. Daddy and I are so SO proud of you. Seeing you with Charlie, interacting with him in your own perfect and unique way, makes our hearts so happy. You are the perfect big sister for Charlie.

This past month, you seem to have grown and aged by leaps and bounds. I was told by many people that as soon as Charlie arrived, you'd seem bigger to me. It sounded silly, but dude, it's so TRUE. You seem so ... grown up. Your hands seem particularly ginormous. Big kid hands. Hands that were the exact same size on November 8th, but somehow, on November 9th (actually November 10th, since that's when I first saw you after Charlie was born), your hands seemed like they belonged on a 2nd grader. I stopped picking you up when I was probably 7 months pregnant, so the first time I picked you up after Charlie was born, I was all "DUDE! When did you get so HEAVY!?" You were all "DUDE! You keep feeding me! I'm going to GROW!" Thanks for that little reality check.

As cool as I think it would have been for Charlie to have been a girl, I'm stoked that he's a boy. The main reason I'm stoked? I can still call you my best girl. I love you more than my heart can profess; I'm proud of you more than words can describe; you will always, always be my best girl. And I will always, always consider myself immensely blessed to know and love you.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


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Headlines for December 1, 2011:

• School picks blackboards over iPads
• Kanye tops Adele in Grammy nods
• World-traveling sea turtle comes home
• $13,000 stuffed in suit accidentally sent to Goodwill
  
• 97 mph! Santa Ana winds batter LA
• Sandusky Threatened Boy's Family