Don't Step in the....

Tiny Bombshell:
Annaliese does her very best Marilyn impression.

Cute skirt, but not so practical or "lady-like"
going down the slide.

The poo source. (sleeping in my garden)

...and she did.

I can tell summer time is almost here because Annaliese has to get a good scrub down every night.  I love the way kids smell when they've been playing outside all day.  A mixture of sweat and dirt and adventure with a lil peanut butter and ice cream on top.

Dirt on kids is not unlike sand at the beach. I find myself wondering how'd that piece of mulch get there and was that really a pebble in her belly button?  But I love it.  She's barefoot and half naked most of the time. Leggings and tights have given way to shorts and scrapes on the knees...ah, summertime.

Tiny likes to be outside.  And now that she can open the back door, she is out all the time....with or without my knowledge.  Lucky for us the backyard is fenced in and the fear of danger is very low.

I should say relative danger.  The other night we had just finished giving Tiny a bath.  We got as far as the diaper when she made a run for the back door.  She's barefoot.  We have a dog. Do you know where this is headed?

As I'm scrambling to chase after her...I'm yelling, in what feels like slow motion "watch out for the poooooo.....!"  Too late.  I know it's happened as soon as I see her face.  I want to cry, she seems ready to laugh.

She does look a little confused, but not quite as disgusted as I feel she should be.  I say (or rather schrill) "don't move" and grab her by the armpits, holding her at arms length as we head back to the tub we've just drained for round two.

The Difference a Day Makes

Tiny likes the "big girl" swings now.

Look how sweet she can be!

She even goofs with mama...

...then the wheels come off.

But, tomorrow is another day.

Tiny takes gymnastics.  We have class at Little Gym two days a week.  Tuesday afternoon is open play, and Wednesday morning the more structured "Beast" class.  (This really is the name.  Perfect, right?)

This Tuesday afternoon, after a considerable amount of effort to get Tiny up from her nap, re-dressed, and strapped in the Subaru, we pull into the parking lot for class (almost on time)...and the out of nowhere battle begins.  It's a tricky dance she and I do when I have to get her from point A to point B.  Sometimes this is from car seat to stroller, house to car seat, or in this case, car to gym.  The little voice in my head is always debating, what do I take with me? And what do I let her take?  Will any of the so called car distractions cause a greater risk of incident at end destination?

At Little Gym, I try to take nothing with me except my keys.  I've made the mistake of taking my bag inside.  Most days this is okay, but somedays when she's not feeling it, she spots my purse through the huge glass windows spying the waiting area, and wants in my purse immediately.  What she's looking for is always unclear, although I have a sneaking suspicion its snacks.

I digress.  Tuesday, it wasn't about my personal effects.  It was about hers.  We had brought along her afternoon snack for the ride to gym.  As I open her car door, I notice she's got a psychotic grip on her snack and sippy cups, a fierce look of determination on her face, and I can feel my heart leap to my throat as I very carefully try to take them from her hands. She's not allowed to bring food into the gym, and she knows this (so help me God she knows).  But, Tuesday, she doesn't like it and soon the whole parking lot knows it.  So, I do what any sane mom in my case would do and pull her out of the car into the cold misty afternoon and try to calmly explain the situation.  I tell her she has two choices, either calm down and go into gym to have fun with her friends, or get back in the car and go home. (Now, I must tell you number two was not an option for me. I didn't brush my hair, get out of my yoga pants and drive 15 minutes just to turn around and go home.)

I'm being totally calm (on the outside), but she is a mess of hair and snot and wailing and flailing.  At home I'd put her in time out and walk away until we both simmered, but it's not an option here in the freezing rainy parking lot.  So, I put her in the backseat of the car, and I climb in the front seat and we wait.  She's still screaming, but it's got this kind of confused vibe to it...after all she's never been allowed to just stand in the backseat.  I refuse to look back, finally after fifteen brutal minutes, she's done.  "Mama?" comes the sweet voice behind my ear.  "Yes, baby?" "Gym!"  And we head in for class, or at least the twenty minutes we have left.

The next morning, I'm dreading getting her out of the car before I've even strapped her in.  But, Wednesday, she is cute and pleasant and when we arrive at Gym she puts her cup and her Minnie on the seat next to her, without a word and happily climbs into my arms.  During class she participates in each activity, and we have so much fun, running and chasing and flipping.  When we leave even her teachers remark that she really had a great class!  I am beaming with pride!  

I almost let myself slip into a euphoric fantasyland, ready to believe maybe, just maybe we've turned the corner on our toddler tantrums.  But reality comes flying back at me as I buckle my belt, and turn around to give my little angel an air kiss.  And, she starts to half whine, half shout, "Mama! Minnie! Now!"

Instead of losing it, I shove it down and smile, tomorrow's another day.

Weekend Wear

The newest member of the blue man group, or
evidence of the cupcake massacre?

"The only thing that separates us from the animals
is our ability to accessorize." - Steel Magnolias 

DVF is flawless. Our new "cheese" face
not so much.

The perfect dressing room.

The typical expression upon opening the
dressing room door.

We had a busy weekend, filled with fun and spring fashion opportunities.

Tiny and I attended a baby shower for a good friend, expecting her first baby boy this summer.  Tiny particularly enjoyed the bright blue cupcakes, licking three cakes clean of their frosting.  I normally don't condone this type of sugar binging but when at an event where the focus should absolutely not be her, I tend to use whatever tactics necessary to entertain, occupy and distract.  In a party room, void of toys and other toddler treasures, the cupcakes really did the trick, plus it was the weekend.  Which means, Hubs was home to help me deal with the inevitable sugar crash that followed a few hours later.  Although, I must admit the crash was surprisingly mild, and nothing a Tide to Go pen, a little Crest and a good sleep couldn't cure. (Sounds somewhat like the adult equivalent of a few too many brewskis).

We also had a little time to do some shopping, and Annaliese has discovered a new game.  Jury is still out on whether I find this game cute, or super annoying.  I probably lean towards cute, the other shoppers and store employees, annoying.  First thing she does upon entering a store is run full speed for the dressing room.  If  the store happens to have a three way mirror she will spend hours looking at herself from all angles.  (The store soundtrack softly playing "You're so Vain" as she ooos and aaas at the cute girl in the mirror.)  This is Tiny's favorite kind of dressing room.

If there are only stalls she finds an open one, runs in and closes the door.  From the outside you can see her tiny feet doing a little dance back and forth as she gushes over her own reflection.  When she tires, she starts to bang on the door to be let out, and the cycle repeats (and repeats and repeats until we leave the store).  When the dressing rooms are near the area I'm shopping this is a win win, she's occupied, I'm shopping instead of chasing. But, when I want to venture to the front of the store, I fear someone may find her banging to be let out and call child services for leaving her motherless in a locked dressing room.   Cute, right?!?

Spring Awakening

Sunshine, baby leg rolls, and a great pirate eye,
make this mismatched outfit look great.
The fashionista was obv self-styled today.
rrrrr!

so pretty!

I could have sworn we were both smiling
when we took this self pic.  She's smiling
on the inside, I just know it.

20 month old problems.

The men relax.  (big shout out to Candace
and Craig for helping us build our little
piece of paradise.

Spring has finally sprung.  Although, congratulations Arkansas you really pulled a fast one on us.  The ol' "bait and switch the northerners" routine to entice them south.  Folks here told us it was going to be warm starting March 1.  On April 3 it was 39 degrees.  Sure we've had the occasional 70 degree day, but that was followed up by flurries the very next.  I was beginning to hate my sweaters and boots and the thought of spending anymore time trying to strap Annaliese into her carseat whilst wearing her puffer jacket unbearable. It's rather like trying to stuff myself into my skinny jeans post holidays.  It's ugly, it's grunty, but eventually, god bless, the button buttons. 

I digress, because finally, (although a month and half later than expected) the flowers are blooming, the birds chirping and the foreseeable forecast future is bright.  Time to dust off the old summer box, pop it open and give these pasty whites some color!

We've been spending a lot of time outside.  And, I don't know if its the fresh air that has changed me, or Annaliese, or both of us, but sunshine makes everything a little better.  Her temper tantrums on a public sidewalk seem a little less painful than those in a store aisle.  They don't seem to last as long, and there are no walls for her deafening screams to bounce off of.  Nature offers many distractions too....mid scream, she points..."BIRD!"  Thank you my winged-friend, for providing me the perfect distraction that could not be found in my too large bag of nonsense. 

Hubs has been getting in on the action too.  Determined to make our backyard a serene outdoor oasis, Bret has spent tireless hours digging, building, planting, spreading, hulling.  And, he's nearly accomplished it.  Our once slab of concrete and fence, is now damn near tranquil.  Tiny even has her own area complete with little house and slide (which come to think of it, is probably why our area is actually quite peaceful). 

Easter Mess...uh, I mean Dress

Ready, set, eat!

Success!

Hot Cross Buns...yummy!  (Thanks Peeps!)

Tiny rocked the FLOTUS's favorite designer
while trying her very first Peep. She got loads of
compliments at church, on her outfit...not her behavior. 

No joke, the couch looked (er, looks) exactly like this.
Think blue ink, instead of red crayon.  I'd take
a picture but it's just too painful.

We spent Easter in Bentonville, and it was a great weekend.  This is the first big holiday we haven't travelled home to see our families, and it was sad and nice all at the same time.  We usually spend most holidays traveling from one side of the family to the next trying to see everyone; brunch with one, dinner with the other.  No rest for the weary.  But, this year brunch was just our little party of three, lovely, but we actually really missed the crazy.

In keeping with tradition, we went to church, and then made a nice breakfast, complete with hot cross buns and hard boiled dyed eggs.  My mom sent us the homemade buns (a yummy taste of home!) and the eggs were dyed by yours truly.

Every year, the women and children (and an occasional man, my grandfather, Poppy, was always game) in my family dye easter eggs using an old family recipe.  For as long as I can remember we have been doing this, and the process is wonderfully messy and the eggs deliciously beautiful.  Without my big wacky family to share this tradition, I tried to get Tiny in on the fun.  She seemed curious at first, but then just stared at me as my hands turned various shades of blue, then purple.  Her technique involved less dye on the eggs and more in her mouth as she tried to eat it by the spoonful.  She ended up orange and the egg victims cracked.

While most of our eggs turned out just as pretty as they do every year, the process didn't have quite the fun factor of dying them with other, well, actual people.  Sorry Tiny, but you did try to eat the dye. Plus, its a lot of work to just do an egg or two, so we did two dozen, which, turns out, is A LOT of eggs for three people.  Egg salad anyone?

We started our own Easter tradition on Sunday, too.  It's a fun game.  Here's how it works:  Tiny grabs a ballpoint pen from mommy's purse and then when mommy is on the phone with out of town family, scribbles as many lines as possible on the white linen couch until mommy or daddy catches her!  Players then each get ten minutes to google as many stain removing solutions they can.  The player with the winning stain treatment wins.  Spoiler ALERT!!! This game has no winners, everyone is a loser.  And, if the visual wasn't a painful enough reminder, the smell of hairspray and finger nail polish remover is literally sickening me with the stench of failure.

The only saving grace is the couch cushions have one flip in them.  Once we choose to flip, it will be our last shot.  So, do we flip now, or flip only when 'good' company comes over?

Here's to creating new family traditions and memories, while still living, loving and missing the old ones.

Crazy Beast

At The Rail Pizza Company in Rogers, AR

I want this sergeant pepper jacket in my size.

Someone has taken my toddler and replaced her with a crazy, moody beast.

I say this with a lot of love, but also a teeny, tiny bit of desperation.  Has anyone seen Annaliese?!  You know her, she's about 33" tall, blonde hair, chubby belly, kissable face.  Something that looks like her is living in my house, but the devil inside this monster isn't my cute, squeezable, funny baby.  No, this three foot nothing lil woman can't be Annaliese!  This lil woman is a constant litany of whining, screaming, kicking. This lil woman speaks a language that I don't fully understand, and this inability to communicate is the ultimate trigger for destruction. This lil woman is racking up a lot of QT on the time out rug. And worse still, this lil woman dare I say it, hates shopping!  But I trained her so well, from day one!  She was supposed to sit quietly in the cart, laughing and smiling at strangers.  This can't be her...climbing out of the cart, pulling cosmetics off the shelves at Target, running full speed towards freedom, and (gasp!) being carried out in a football hold as we leave our full cart abandoned in aisle six. Oh the shame!

My mother often reminded me, all through my childhood and everyday since, that when I was around 2, I was (or so she thought) possessed by something unholy.  So convinced was she, that she called in a priest to see if he could exorcise the demons!  I'm happy to report, there was no exorcism that day, but I can now finally and fully appreciate what drove her to such drastic assumptions.

Could it be that this "unholy" spirit is hereditary?  Or is it that every toddler goes through this phase, making parents call priests, drink copious amounts of wine, and doubt their decision to reproduce ever again?  I've gotta believe there is a light at the end of this tunnel, because people keep having babies, right?!

I've talked to many friends and they all are going through something very similar.  "It's just the age," they say.  To which I must ask, through what age should I expect this crazy beast, and when will my sweet Tiny return?

Beast or no beast, Annaliese will still rock fabulous, as her opinion about all matters including her wardrobe are stronger than ever.  While, at the same time, I can feel myself falling down a slippery slope, shamefully donning yoga pants and pony tails. Today was a real low point, at her gymnastics class, when another mom asked me if I was wearing some kind of barret in my hair.  I don't wear barrets, so a little confused I reached up and found a Minnie Mouse sticker plastered to my hair/forehead...absolutely clueless as to how long I'd been rocking this hotness.

Here's hoping when Annaliese returns, so does my dignity and self-respect.

Nati' Love

Out for a Thursday stroll. Tiny walks the trails in
Bentonville with Nana and Dodo.

That's right folks, I did it again. I flew with this tiny terrorist
and this time only one small, teensy, tiny incident. 

While in the Nati we got to visit with some of my besties,
which just happen to be some of Tiny's besties' mamas.
We are two very lucky girls.  Thank you friends!
(also worth noting...we plan to show this photo
at A and O's wedding in 2040.)

What a crazy couple of weeks!  Since my last post, we had a great visit from Nana and Dodo (Bret's parents, and I swear Dodo is a self-inflicted nickname), celebrated Bret's birthday and took another trip.

Being far away from home I can't tell you how nice it is when grandparents come to visit.  Annaliese was over the moon and so were we.  We did fun touristy things, but we also just had good, quality time to do nothing but hang and catch up.  From nice long walks to taking in some truly amazing Norman Rockwell art (at Crystal Bridges) to eating the most delicious crepes al fresco (at Crepes Paulette), thank you Nana and Dodo for a great visit and for even allowing us a date night!

Nana and Dodo were in town Thursday thru Monday, and with the scars of the Florida trip still fresh Tiny and I packed our bags and headed back home to Cincinnati with them.  My folks are moving, and the hubs was out of town on business so we thought it was a good chance to visit with the rest of our fam and friends and bid adieu to 672.

I am happy to report, my tiny terrorist was by no means perfect, but she was an angel compared to the whirling dervish on the Orlando flight.  Her only true meltdown occurred with 15 minutes left in the flight when the flight attendant mercilessly declared that all electronic devices must be powered down.  Ripping the iPad from Tiny's hands and shoving it in my bag, the look she gave me can only be described as a "WTF" look.  I might as well have stabbed her stuffed Minnie in the heart.  But, this got me thinking, have we really not figured out how to let passengers keep their iPads and kindles fired up for these last few and oh so cruel minutes?  Airline industry I implore you on behalf of stressed out mothers and over worked business men and women everywhere, give us these last few minutes!

Having arrived safely and nearly incident free, we had a really great, but too short trip home.  Although, I feel like I should be sad to say goodbye to my childhood home, the truth is I couldn't be happier for my parents.  A home isn't the physical house, but the people that live inside it.  As I left 672 for the last time, I got choked up, not because I'll miss Sundance but I miss my family. Watching my baby girl give bye bye kisses to her Nana and Dodo and her Peeps and Papa Jack, that's the real hard goodbye.  When she asks me a dozen times a day, "where's Caroline? where's Ry Ry? where's Ka Ka?  where's Papa?  where's Nana? where's Peeps?" I just say they're in Cincinnati honey and they are sending you lots of Nati' Love.