Month 8 - Recap

Happy 2/3 year, my sweet Bear (we like reduced fractions in this house ... seeing 8/12 would give me the willies).

I wasn't sure I was going to be right, but you rallied in the last week of this month - you are now no longer toothless or immobile.  Granted, I can hardly see your one tiny tooth.  But truuuuuuuust me, I feel it.  With my finger, and um, with other things.  Your sister bit me a grand total of two times.  She quickly learned that biting meant that Mommy closed up shop, so to speak.  You, however, aren't phased by me closing up shop.  You giggle and simply wait until it's time to eat again.  Punk.

You're not technically crawling, but you're definitely going from Point A to Point B.  You haven't quite figured out that you need to be on your hands and knees to crawl - you're happy inchworming along, flipping and flopping using your toes and elbows until you reach your intended destination (usually Natalie's shoe - you find them tasty.  I find that 'ew'.)  Natalie is your biggest cheerleader.  When she sees you start to move, she claps and squeals "Come on, Char-yee Bear!  You can do it, Buddy!" (wait a few seconds) "Heeeeeeey!  Waaaaaaaaait!  That's MY toy!  Char-yee!!!  Don't crawl to MY toy!!!!"  Hopefully, by the time you're old enough to read these recaps, Natalie will have learned to share.

You're turning out to be quite a good eater.  You've liked everything I've given you (I almost don't remember all the foods you've had!) except you don't seem to dig peas.  And I can't say I blame you; they're gross.  (Don't believe the lies Aunt KK might tell you.)  The mesh feeder has proved invaluable to me/us.  It soothes your gums and allows you to feed yourself (which is all you want to do - you have no desire to be fed by a spoon anymore).  With Natalie, I had plenty of time to heat up her food and sit and feed her.  With you, alas, I find myself scrambling to feed you (and me and her).  Oh, the burdens of being the second child.  I feel your pain, dude.  Enter the mesh feeder (and cue the lights shining down from above).  Even though your mouth doesn't seem to bother you anymore, I still use the mesh feeder so you can feed yourself (so that I can get Natalie's lunch fixed).  I fear that makes me a Lazy Mommy, but I just prefer to think of it as me being an Efficient Mommy. 

You seem to be starting with the separation anxiety a little bit.  Up until this month, you were perfectly happy me dropping you off in the nursery at church or the gym. But now, your little face crumples into a pile of pitiful despair.  It's heart-wrenching for sure, but I rest easy in knowing that you're a big fat faker and are all smiles and giggles not five seconds later.

Daddy's mommy, your Nana, passed away late last month.  It was (and still is) such a loss, but I'm confident that God has been with us through it all.  His hand was evident in every aspect of her illness, and His mercy surrounded her.  Even though you're too young to remember her, I want you to know - to always know - how much Nana loved you.  Her face always broke into a huge smile every time she saw you, and she often commented on how you look like just how Daddy did when he was a baby.  You loved being held by her, and you always tried to take her glasses off.  Nana ooh-ed and ahh-ed over your sweet smile and your laid-back personality.  Your face was one of the last she saw before she passed away.  What a great way to enter into heaven: with a new body and a fresh memory of your adorable gummy grin, your impossibly chubby cheeks, and your crinkly eyes.

My heart is forever changed by you.  I don't know how to explain it, but 2/3 of a year ago, something inside me changed.  You, my darling big-headed Baby Bear, are amazing.  I'm a better Mommy because of you, Daddy's a better Daddy because of you, and Natalie's a better Natalie because of you.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for July 9, 2012:

• Sharks Ply Waters off Cape Cod in Search of Seals
• Blind Passenger Causes 12-Hour Emergency Landing
• Man Nears 3 Millionth Mile in '66 Volvo
• US to Get a Reprieve From Heat Wave
• Emirati Officials Find Baby Hidden in Carry-on Bag
• Oscar-winning film star Ernest Borgnine dies, aged 95
• 'American Idol' shakeup could bring in Adam Lambert as judge

June 2012 - Recap

Cue the angels singing!  SOMEbody finally figured how to do EVERYthing in a certain receptacle.  And does it like a CHAMP.  It was touch and go there for a while though.  I was afraid I'd have to sell you to the circus or something.  Because trying to convince a stubborn-as-a-mule toddler to use the certain receptacle when the stubborn-as-a-mule toddler didn't WANT to use a certain receptacle was, quite possibly, the most maddening experience of my life.  You had convinced yourself that you were scared to do it.  DESPITE the fact that you had already DONE it months before.  We decided to go completely diaper-free after you decided that you'd just hold your, um, business until we put a diaper on you at night.  There was never any motivation to learn to go in the certain receptacle if you just hold out for your trusty diaper at bedtime.  Well I showed YOU.  We went diaper-free and you were all about it.  Super stoked to do EVERYthing in the toilet.  I had a big bag of chocolate ready and waiting to reward you.  Did you go?  No.  Of course not.  That'd be too easy.  What DID you do, you may ask?  Instead of going, you followed me around the house and whined.  WWWWWHHHHHIIIIIIINNNNNNNEEEEEEEDDDDDDD.  Whined that your tummy hurt.  Whined that your booty hurt.  But you had psyched yourself into believing that doing your thing on the toilet was scary.  And that it would hurt.  Which unfortunately was the case.  AFTER YOU REFUSED TO GO FOR THREE DAYS.  Of COURSE you won't feel well if you hold it for that long.  I got so desperate that I gave you juice.  Straight-up, non-watered down juice.  Lots of it.  I had no idea that the effects of fully-leaded juice would be no match for the willpower of my three-year-old.  I had no idea that the effects of fully-leaded juice PLUS suppositories would be no match for the willpower of my three-year-old.  I had no idea that the effects of fully-leaded juice PLUS suppositories PLUS Miralax would be no match for the willpower of my three-year-old.  You know what IS?  Fully-leaded Juice PLUS suppositories PLUS Miralax PLUS an enema.  (Is that too much information to put in your monthly recap?  Probably.)  As I'm writing this, I have a hard time realizing that this happened only a few weeks ago.  Because now?  You are a toilet rockstar.  And since you're way too smart for your own good, you've figured out that since you get chocolate every time you go, you spread out your, um, business-time over the course of the day.  Just to maximize your chocolate intake.  I have to admit, that makes me pretty proud.

All it took was one time in Target's toy section playing with a Barbie cash-register-price-scanner toy for you to become Barcode Obsessed.  You look for them EVERYwhere.  You notice them on your books, your box of hairbands, the box of Triscuits.  When you see one, your eyes open up wide and you have a sly little smile on your face as you say in a sing-songy voice "Momma!  Yook what IIIIIIIIIII see!  It's ... a ... BARCODE!!!!"  You're none too happy about there being an absense of all things barcode on things like apples, your teddy bear, and Charlie Bear, though.  Bob came over earlier this month wearing a black-and-white striped shirt.  When you saw her, you squealed "BOB!  You're wearing a BARCODE shirt!!"
 
You've started to really like writing, particularly smiley faces and the letters 'N', 'A', and 'E'.  You fill up pages and pages with your delightfully out-of-proportion letters and get so excited by your handiwork.  You're welcome in advance, by the way, for naming you with a name that can be constructed completely out of straight lines.  As for the smiley faces, they're pretty fantastic, too.  Except for the whole I-Must-Add-Noses-To-Smiley-Faces idea you adhere to.  I'm a proud, card-carrying member of the Smiley Faces Do NOT Have Noses club, but you, you little trailblazer, insist that every smiley face be be-nosed. 

Far and away, one of your most favorite things to do is to go on a Daddy-Nattie date to Tom Thumb to get lemonade.  Wait.  Scratch that.  You like to get yemmonade.  And I'm pretty sure it's not actually the lemonade that you like; it's the special time with Daddy you love.  You and I don't get lemonade (we could, of course, but I make a point not to.  Lemonade Dates belong to you and Daddy).  In fact, when Daddy brought home a big bottle of lemonade from the grocery store the other day, instead of being super stoked to have lemonade at your beck-and-call, you looked shocked and said "But Daddy!  Now we can't go to the yemmonade store and get it TOGETHER!"  Every time we pass a Tom Thumb, you proudly announce "That's where Daddy and Nattie go to get YEMMONADE!!!"  I love that you recognize a Tom Thumb as the Lemonade Store.  You also recognize Waffle Houses, but that's another story for another day.

While I'm on the subject of yemmonade, you're starting to pronouce Ls properly.  It takes a lot of thought on your part, and you speak really slowly and deliberately, but there are definitely some words that have Ls instead of Ys.  I'm simultaneously proud and bummed.  I do love your 'little girl speech', but I totally get you need to outgrow it before applying to yaw school ...

You have been on a mission this month.  A mission to find all the fire extinguishers and hand sanitizer dispensers whenever we visit Nana.  And being that she lived in an assisted living facilty, there was a plethora of both fire extinguishers and hand sanitizer dispensers.  You love to walk the halls and count every one you found.  You never seem to catch on that the place where Nana lives is one big loop, because when we finish one lap around and ended up at our starting point, you'd continue counting.  I think at one point, you counted 47 fire extinguishers.  (I'm pretty sure that's about 37 too many.)  Then you'd run into Nana's room and report your findings.  She was always excited to hear your report.

Speaking of Nana, this was a really tough month for Daddy and me.  Nana passed away very early on June 24th.  She had Stage 4 lung cancer and end-stage renal disease.  For a few weeks before her death, I was really frustrated with God for 'allowing' her to go through all of this.  Like, God can't you SEE how she feels?  Don't you CARE she feels miserable?  What's the hold up?  Now I know.  He knew EXACTLY how she felt and cared deeply that she felt miserable.  His timing was perfectly perfect.  If He had 'listened' to me, she would have passed away months ago.  And Aunt Lisa and Taylor might have missed seeing her.  Her passing when she did allowed Daddy, Aunt Lisa, Taylor, and Draigen to be there together with her.  She passed away at precisely the right time.  God answered my fervent prayer that she would not be on this earth one second longer than she needed to be.  It was a beautiful example of God's unfailing mercy.

Daddy and I will work hard to remind you how much Nana loved you.  She was so proud of her grandkids and doted on them tirelessly.  You were no exception. She was always tickled by how smart you are, by the wackadoo things that come out of your mouth, and your seemingly endless supply of energy.  When we visited her, we would go outside in the courtyard.  You would immediately want to play Hide-and-Seek with me, and Nana really got a kick out of watching you run around, trying to find the perfect hiding spot.  She was so proud of you when you told her you finally learned how to use the toilet.  She loved seeing what treasures you brought to show her - pictures you colored, your newest book, or your current favorite stuffed animal.  She cherished you, my sweet girl, and I want you to know that with every fiber of your being.


Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy


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Headlines for July 1, 2012:

• Residents to Tour Areas Devastated by Colorado Blaze
• Mom Who Lost Custody Because of Cancer Spent Final Weeks With Kids
• Student Mauled by Chimp Hoped to Help Abused Animals
• Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes to Divorce
• California cities balk as feds strictly enforce marijuana laws
• 100 and hotter; power failures add to misery

Month 7 - Recap

Ohhh buddy.  You're a movin' and a shakin'.  Well.  Not quite.  More like, you're a rollin' and a reachin'.  And a grabbin'.  And still a droolin'.  This might be your last immobile month.  And last toothless month.

You had your first experience with solid food this month.  And in true Smithkid form, you gave real food an enthusiastic thumbs up.  You've had peas, avacado, sweet potato, butternut squash, and banana.  Surprisingly, you didn't seem to care for the banana.  Natalie approves of your rejection, however, since this keeps her from having to share her bananas.  (FYI: your sister is part monkey).  Speaking of your sister, she totally digs feeding you.  And she's really quite skilled at it.  I mean, I HAVE had to make the Just Because the Spoon is However-Many-Inches-Long, It Doesn't Mean You Should Shove It In Its Entirety Down Your Brother's Throat lecture to her a few times, but for the most part, she's a fabulous food-feeder.  And any time you get to spend with her is a-ok with you.  You think she is epically fabulous. 

In true baby form, you're good at grabbing at things.  And in true baby form, you have complete disregard for whether or not the aforementioned things are attached to someone's body.  Grabbing rattles?  Go for it.  Grabbing your bib?  Knock yourself out.  My ear?  Not so cute when you grab and pull as if you're actually trying to separate it from my head.  My cheek?  While they ARE chubby and ARE easy to grab in fistfulls, they are, in fact, still attached to my face.  And no amount of pulling on your part will change that.  But far and away, your most favorite thing to grab is Natalie's hair.  And in your defense, she DOES dangle her head near you and her hair falls right in the path of your hands.  In her defense, though, it DOES hurt.  I keep trying to explain to her that you're not doing it to be mean, you're doing it to play with her.  Except that logic doesn't fly with your entirely-too-logical-for-her-age sister.

You're sitting up really well now, so I think you've finally figured out how to properly balance your big ol' noggin.  At least for a minutes or so.  Which, given that your head makes up like 97% of your overall mass, I feel is quite an accomplishment.  You'll grow into your head one day.  I'm quite certain of it.  And if not, blame your Daddy.  Big-headedness is a Smith trait.  You can blame your dry skin on me.

You still squEEEEEEEEEEEEEal.  And scrEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEch.  Holy moly, kid.  Seriously, there's no contest to win to become the Screechiest Baby in History.  Wait.  I take that back.  There IS a contest.  And you've won.  So now there's no need to screech anymore.

With Natalie, I love all things hairbows and cute little girly-but-not-overly-so shirts.  With you?  It's plaid.  I love plaid with a fierceness that I didn't know existed until 7 months ago.  I think I do a good job of not going overboard because Daddy hasn't vetoed anything I've put on you.  He rolled his eyes when you were decked out in plaid overalls, but I think that was his secret, manyly of saying "Those are awesome!".  At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

As is common with any parent of a new(ish) baby, I get asked about your sleeping habits a lot.  The answer up until a month ago was met with a glare and a grumble (directed toward you, not the question asker).  For a mellow kid, you sure as heck became anything BUT mellow when it was time to sleep.  The only way I could get you to sleep was to nurse you to sleep.  I love nursing you to sleep, don't get me wrong.  What was rough was when you needed to nurse to go BACK to sleep every time you woke up during the night (3, 4, or sometimes 5 times during the night).  You weren't necessarily hungry, you had just gotten used to nursing-sleep routine.  To preserve my sanity and my ability to be a functioning member of society, I (gently - please don't call DCF) broke you of this habit.   Your pediatrician recommended a book for me to try, and while it was pretty rough for a few weeks, you finally got to the point where you can fall back asleep on your own.  It's amazing how NOT getting up 5 times every night makes for a much happier Mommy and Charlie.  Who'da thunk it.

I said this when Natalie was a baby, and I'll say it again with you - Daddy and I make the best-smiling babies on the face of the planet.  Your smile lights up your whole body.  And when combined with your chubby cheeks, your square jaw, your twinkly eyes, and your dimples (oh those DIMPLES!!) ... man, there's just nothing better.  And being your mom?  Man, there's just nothing better.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for June 9, 2012:

• Flashlight Bombs Puzzle Phoenix Authorities
• Prince Philip Leaves Hospital
• Click and Clack retiring from 'Car Talk'
• Lindsay Lohan totals Porsche in car accident
• Triple Crown bid ends with injury for Kentucky Derby and Preakness winner
• Far-flung E. coli outbreak sickens 14 in 6 states
• R u crz? Most teens text while driving, CDC says

Laaaaaame ...

So I thought I'd be able to do weekly picture updates of Natalie and Charlie.  Alas, I was wrong.  I think I have to switch to Monthly Smitkid updates instead of Weekly Smithkid updates.  Unless we hire a nanny and a maid.  THEN I'll do Weekly updates.

May 2012 - Recap

My darling peach,
I so cannot believe you're almost three-and-a-half.  That seriously blows my mind.

While you're still very good at identifying singers and song titles, there are those times when you're stumped.  And in those cases, you're not satisfied with simply not knowing.  Instead, you make up the missing information.  This most often occurs in the van.  Case in point:

*a song comes on KLOVE that I've never heard before*
You: Mommy, who sings this song?
Me: I don't know, sugar.  This is the first time I've heard it.
You: Well what's the name of the song?
Me: I don't know, kiddo.  Let's wait and see if they announce what it is.
You: Oh *I* know!!
Me: Oh yeah?
You: Yes.  It's called .... um .... (looking around the van) ... it's, um ... it's called ... GodCarseatBookCheerios!!
Me: You don't say!  Who sings GodCarseatBookCheerios? 
You: I think it's Nata-yee Gwant.  No, no, no ... wait, no ... it's not Nata-yee Gwant.  It's ... um ... (looking around outside) ... it's FireHydwantBirdGwass.  Yeah, FireHydwantBirdGwass.
Me: FireHydrantBirdGrass?  That's a really lovely name.
You: I know.

In addition to making up singers and song titles, you make up names for EVERYTHING we do.  You dabbled in this a few months ago, but now you're a full-on Inventor of Made-Up Names of Activities.  Such as "Momma, yet's pway the You Tickle Me Game Where I Yaff [laugh] and Yaff and I Say Stop But I Don't Wewwy [really] Mean It and You Tickle My Underarm Pitties [thanks Tickle Monster for that adorable phrase] and Then I Fall on the Gwound [ground] and Then I Get Back on the Couch and You Tickle Me Some More and I Yaff and Yaff and Then You Tickle My Feet.  Yet's pway THAT game, okay?

One of your latest favorite things to do is to add.  I know, I know - big surprise, given the copious amount of nerd blood running through your nerd veins.  You're a champ at counting and adding on your fingers (this is a skill that will last a lifetime, as your 31-year-old mother still counts and adds on her fingers ...).  Our time in the car while running errands is frequently spent adding numbers.  Or counting syllables.  You're really big on counting syllables, too.  And your funny prounciation of certain words leads you to believe they have waaaay more syllables than they actually have.  Like 'three'.  One syllable, right?  Au contraire, mon cheri.  You think 'three' has three syllables.  Thuh-wee-eee.  You also think if you say a word quickly, it only has one syllable.  Like 'apple'.  You hold up one finger and say 'apple' as fast as you can.  And you look at me like 'See, Mom?  I TOLD you 'apple' only had one syllable.'  And if you could roll your eyes, you so would.

You also like to spell.  You've gotten quite good at spelling certain words (Natalie, Daddy, Mommy, dog, cat).  You get very, um, creative, when it comes to spelling other words.  Take 'Ita' for instance (Ita, in case you've forgotten is the name of your imaginary friend.  She's sometimes a girl, sometimes an animal.  Sometimes she's 5 and short, sometimes she's 8 and tall.  She's hard to keep up with, that Ita).  This is the latest way you spell 'Ita':  Eldzwrfjiuktmasqhg.  This darn English language and its silent 'e' and silent 'l' and silent 'd' and silent 'z' and silent 'w' and silent 'r' and silent 'f' and silent 'j' and silent 'u' and silent 'k' and silent 'm' and silent 's' and silent 'q' and silent 'h' and silent 'g'.

You're beginning to realize what life is like with a sibling.  For the first six months of his life, Charlie didn't do much (besides the obligatory eat, sleep, and poop).  And you thought it was fabulous.  But now?  While Charlie's not fully mobile yet, he can definitely grab things.  And those things?  They're the most important things EVER and you can't BEAR the thought of him touching them so you SCREECH and YANK things from his hand for FEAR that he'll somehow RUIN your things by LOOKING at them, let alone TOUCHING them.  This is SERIOUS, Momma.  Quit LAUGHING.  I know, I know.  Sharing your toys with a lump who only eats, sleeps, and poops is easy.  Sharing your toys with a former lump who is now a reaching, grabbing, slobbering, ball of big-headed-brother is a different story.  Better get used to it, sista.  Because this brother of yours?  He thinks the sun rises and sets on you.  I can't blame him.  You ARE pretty awesome.  And awesome people don't screech and yank.  So let's work on that, shall we?

When Daddy comes home from work at night, you run into his arms and ask him "Are you going to stay with me for a yong, yong [long, long] time?"  Seriously.  I couldn't make up something that cute if you paid me a million dollars.  To answer your question, yes, Daddy will stay with you for a yong, yong time.  I will, too.  Hope that's okay.  If not, too bad.  Daddy and I are kind of a match set.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for June 1, 2012

• Bear Disrupts Calif. School Graduation
• National Bubba Day: 10 Famous Bubbas
• Sheep-Carrying Truck Overturns; Sheep Rain on Cars
• Tensions Inside John Edwards Jury Room
• LA Cop Going for Ferris Wheel Record

Month 6 - Recap

Little Bear,
Hey, you know what's really cute? Besides your delicious dimples and your tasty toes (and my apparently penchant for alliteration), of course. You like to snuggle. Not for long periods of time (bummer), though, but I'll take it. There are often times during the day where you've got a full belly and an empty diaper, but you're still fussy. And all you need in those times seems to be a hug . I pick you up and you immediately stop crying. You hold on to my arm and start cooing. All you need is two or three minutes, then you're fine going back to your regularly scheduled tummy time (or rather, back time - you still hate being on your stomach). I hear there are babies who like to cuddle all the time, and while I appear to not breed those types of babies, I cherish that you need little periods of some Mommy Cuddles. It's flippin' fantastic.

You've really discovered your voice this month. You like to jabber. And squeal. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal. Seriously, dude, you're killing me with the squealing. You sound like a dilophosaurus, before he spits the nasty goo from his mouth (when you're older, we'll watch Jurassic Park so you can see that scene). You sound like you're crying, but when I go to check on you, lo and behold, you're happy - but squealing like a banshee.

You're consistently inconsistent in how you sleep at night. Sometimes you only wake up once, sometimes you wake up twice (note: I like those nights the least), sometimes you don't wake up at all (note: I like those nights the best). We've had to start you on a swaddle detox program since you ended up rolling over while swaddled (thankfully you did it when you were in the living room and we saw you right away). Your arms are still pretty flail-y and spazzy, so I was worried as to how you'd do without being swaddled. I was pleasantly surprised at how well you did at night. You didn't wake up any more than you did when you were swaddled. Naps, however, are a completely different story. You're pretty much a wretched unswaddled napper. Soooo, yeah. Let's work on that, shall we? Mommy likes naps herself. And Mommy can't take a nap if the youngest Smithkid insists on not napping.

You still haven't cut any teeth, despite the mounds of wet bibs and burp rags that accumulate every day. I could have sworn you would have teeth by now, but so far, no dice. Your gummy smile is so unbelievably charming, though, so I'm fine with your toothless state.

I can't believe you're six months old already. That's half a year! (I know, I'm pretty stellar at math). Your enormous head is still keeping you from being able to sit up well. Your current record is 2 seconds sitting up by yourself without face-planting. But you're able to roll quite well, so I think gone are the days where you stay put. *sigh* I so enjoyed your immobility.

Please don't call DCF, but I took a kid-free trip this month. Yes, the mother of a child who will not take a bottle took a kid-free weekend trip. [I had a good reason - one of my dearest friends graduated Summa Cum Laude from law school] But your Daddy is a marvelous Daddy who insisted I needed a little break from the craziness that is you and your sister. When I protested and said that you don't take a bottle, Daddy laughed and said "He will if you're not here!" And wouldn't you know it, you DID! The first day was the worst - you are one stubborn little punk, and you were highly offended by the bottle. It didn't take long, though, for your hunger to outweigh your stubbornness - and you started drinking from a bottle like a rockstar. I was worried that you wouldn't nurse well when I got back, but you did just fine. I had such a great time on my trip, and I'm so glad I went. I came back feeling refreshed, relaxed, and so ready to see my loves. I admit, I dragged out your first middle-of-the-night feeding when I came back. It had only been three days since I had seen you, but it felt like a lot longer. I held you a little tighter, rocked you a little slower, and sniffed your sweet, little (okay, gigantic) head a little longer. You and your gigantic head melt my heart.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for May 9, 2012:

• Gun parts, ammo found hidden inside stuffed animals at Rhode Island airport
• NOAA reports warmest 12-month stretch on record
• DHS: Hackers Mounting Organized Cyber Attack on U.S. Gas Pipelines
• Afghan War Support Hits New Low
• High Fructose Corn Syrup Debate Gets Sticky
• Life Spans of Popular Electronic Gadgets

April 2012 - Recap

My darling rascal,
A running joke between Bob and me is that there's nothing funnier than a four-year-old girl. Well, in keeping with your over-achiever-ness, there might be nothing funnier (or more maddening - can't forget maddening ... but I digress) than a three-year-old girl. Or, more specifically, MY three-year-old girl.

This is your current favorite joke:

Knock knock
[Who's there?]
What do a wooster and a doggie say?
[Ummm ....]
Cockadoodle bark

While the joke doesn't make complete sense, it cracks me up seeing how it cracks YOU up.

For the past month or so, you've had flowers waiting for me when I pick you up from Mothers' Day Out. And by 'flowers', I mean 'flowery-looking weeds". And let me tell you, they're the most beautiful flowery-looking weeds I've ever seen. Apparently, you spend a chunk of your playground time walking around, scouting out some flowers for me. And when I pick you up, your teacher gives you the Dixie cup o' flowers to give to me. You get so excited, and I promise from the bottom of my heart that I treasure these flowers. They're perfect. They might be covered in dirt and bugs, but I don't care. They're from you. Therefore they're beautiful.

You still love to sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Yes, it's May. But who cares? Who can resist hearing Christmas diddies in the spring with lyrics like this:
Hark the heh-wuld angels sing
Gwoh-wy to the newborn King
Peace on Earth and mercy mild
God and sinners, reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the twi-vumphs of the skies
With an-jel-ees pose pwo-cway
Cwyst is born in Beth-wa-hem

You also like to sing "I May Never March in the Infantry", "Jesus Loves Me", and "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" sung to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

You had your first real dentist appointment this month. You had seen the dentist early last year, but it wasn't for an official checkup. You did so great last year and I hoped you'd do just as well this time. You were a little nervous, but God bless the dental hygienists - they were so sweet to you. You brought your stuffed puppy with you to the appointment, and the hygienists gave your puppy a cleaning first to show you what they were going to do when it was your turn. You didn't want to lie back in the chair for your cleaning, so they let you sit in my lap while they did it. When the dentist came in, you decided laying down was going to be okay. You gripped your puppy with one hand and squeezed mine with the other. The dentist sang a little song to you and commented on how pretty your 'princess teeth' were. You were cavity free (see? Me being an un-fun mom and not letting you eat candy hardly ever finally paid off!) and were walking out of his office proudly holding a sparkly toothbrush and two princess stickers after a whopping 15 minutes. If anyone needs a pediatric dentist recommentation in Pensacola, I can't say enough good things about Dr. Bonnin.

Your prayers are so, so sweet and they make me smile from head to toe. I try really hard not to giggle because I don't ever want you to feel as if I'm making fun of you, or as if your prayers aren't 'good'. Your prayers are perfect, and they are an excellent, living example of what it means to have faith like a child. You thank God for anything and everything, and I know God enjoys every word. What's neat is that you pray completely different when Daddy puts you to bed versus when I put you to bed. When Daddy puts you to bed, you want him to help you with what words to say. When I put you to bed, you (usually) pray by yourself. You always thank God for the day and for His love. Then you procede to kick it Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round style. I understand you probably don't even know what Wheel of Fortune is, regardless of Old School or New School, so let me explain about this particular bonus round. Waaaaaaay back in the dark ages (like the '80s), the bonus round of Wheel of Fortune involved the big winner getting to buy prizes with his/her prize money. The home audience would see a big room full of furniture, electronics, art, and whatnots. The contestant's face would appear in the corner of the TV screen and you'd see him/her scanning the room, deciding what to buy. The dialog went something like this: "I'll take the white wicker dinette set for $800 ... and the ceramic dog for $100 ... and the toaster oven for $170 ..." Would you like to see a video? Well I just happen to have a video! Enjoy:

[Side note - I totally laughed at the 10" TV] Okay, so the scene's been set. You scan your room and thank God for what you see. "Thank You God for my cwothes dat I wear outside ... thank You for my Yeggos [Legos] dat I play with when I get sent to my woom [room] ... thank You for my Emmo [Elmo] chair dat I sit in when I weed [read] my stowwies ... thank You for my dwesser [dresser] that I put my undies in ... thank You for my stuffed aminimals [animals] that I seep [sleep] with ... thank You for my bean bag chair dat I yand [land] on when I jump off my bed ... " Precious, no? And please know that if I had kicked it Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round style when picking daughters, and I had had a room full of goofball girls to pick from, I would have spent every penny of my prize money on one particular goofball girl. You are my Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round grand prize.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from May 1, 2012:

• Mark Zuckerberg's New Life-Saving Facebook Tool
• More Babies Born Addicted to Opiates
• 'Octomom' Files for Bankruptcy
• Jessica Simpson gives birth to baby girl
• Anarchists Plotted to Blow Up Cleveland Bridge: FBI
• OBL One Year: NYC Security Surge, Body Bomb Worry

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

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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!!!