Relief Pitcher

A good friend came over this afternoon.  When she walked in, the girls and I both breathed a sigh of relief.  It was almost as if we were all thinking, thank god an adult is here.  Even though the friend had worked a full day and dealt with a commute, she stayed with the girls for an hour while I went to Target to pick up a prescription and wander around and look at things.  It was much needed.  Somehow I managed to FUBAR the nap schedule royally (I know, you organized people have no idea how this happens, but it does to me.  Regularly.) and everyone was a bit of a grump.  Squish is crawling everywhere and has come thisclose to tumbling down some stairs a dozen times.  Bug is majorly testing boundaries.  She "counts" me to time-out regularly (uh, 34 minutes where I can sit by myself and not talk to anyone?  Yes, please!) and for some reason has started hitting my face.  She tackles her sister who is just starting to pull up and wrap her big brain around walking and also whacks her on the head with anything and everything.  Not acceptable.  I started out patient and calm as you please, but by the end of the day I was doing my best not to hit back, use a major yelly voice or just hide in the bathroom.  So an hour of mindless consumerism was much appreciated.  Cheers to good friends and kids who are a thousand times cuter after a peaceful wander through the $1 Spot.

How long does the boundary pushing last?  Will Squish ever manage to balance those big brains over her tiny feet?  What is your fantasy Target shopping list?

Braindump

Alright, sorry for the pause there.  Haha, no one is reading this (yet?), so it doesn't really matter.  But fake it 'til ya make it right?  Anyway, my mom was here and birthday party and yadda yadda.  When we had Squish, we started refinishing a room in our basement to use as a guest room.  In the past two weeks (yes, Squish is almost one, shut up) we finally got Squish in the nursery, Bug in her big girl room and the guest room moved downstairs.  It was really nice for everyone to have their own space.  My mom is really freaking amazing - she is great with the kids, she can cook, but is ok with being cooked for/doesn't demand meals/certain foods, she does loads of laundry, she takes the kids out, she babysits.  It is really nice having her around.  I am not a naturally schedule-oriented person (all the people who have ever worked with me in the past and are finding this are now spitting coffee out of their nose at that understatement) so even though it is helpful and of course you get used to it, just keeping the kids on a regular daily schedule is something that takes a lot of brain energy for me.  So having someone else around who steps in on that part (and clears the sink) (and rounds up baby socks and discarding hoodies and washes them) is immensely helpful.

So with all of that extra brain energy, here are things that got accomplished while she was here - threw (kick-ass) pirate birthday party, did some quality Marshall's and Costco shopping, came up with next great children's book idea, tested guest room bed and bathroom, got some history about things I have from my grandmother's house, mopped kitchen floor and cleaned up bathrooms, found some delicious cookies, tried (and failed) to show her how to use her Kindle.  Not a bad trip all in all.

Any great children's book ideas?  How about mother or MIL stories? Mid-renovation stories?

Thanksgiving

I was wondering why Squish smelled like Thanksgiving this afternoon.  What a strange smell for a baby to have.  I sniffed her hair and her toes and lastly in her diaper area wondering if something bad had happened.  I didn't know if there was a Thanksgiving-smell disease like there is a maple syrup urine disease.  I mean, she is a little turkey!  I finally realized that she had pumpkin for lunch and Bug was sneaking her cinnamon graham cracker-thingies that she got for her birthday.  Pumpkin + cinnamon + graham cracker = Thanksgiving :)  And I don't even eat pumpkin pie!  Wonder if I could hire her out to smell like fresh baked cookies at realtor's open houses?

Inch by Inch

My daughter got a pair of shoes for Christmas that she loves.  I checked them a week or so ago to make sure they still fit.  Because last year we accidentally kept cramming her feet into too small shoes.  They grow out of those suckers fast!  Anyway, there was still space for her toes, so I didn't think anything else about it.  A few days ago my husband commented that Bug needed new socks because her feet were out-growing the ones she was wearing.  The same socks I just bought a month ago.  Next time she put on her red shoes, I checked the toes again and her feet were bulging against the toe of the shoe.  I'm thinking, is it even possible for her feet to grow like an inch a week?!  That is insane!  I immediately starting a hunt for new shoes in the next size, berating myself for letting this happen again. This morning Bug and I were leaving to go to the grocery store.  I picked up the red shoes because they were beside the door.  I put the sole of the shoe against sole of her foot and the shoe was still an inch or two longer than her foot.  What?  I reached in and found a pair of socks stuffed in the toe of each shoe.  Did my husband commit this insanity to combat his frustration that he can never find a pair of socks?  Did Bug do it when she was playing hide and seek with her figurines?  Her shoes still fit, but I can't figure out why her socks don't fit anymore.

Three

Bug turns three today.  Three is so strange.  I remember three as being my best year of childhood.  It was just so much damn fun.  I hope Bug feels that way about her third year.  She says and does some really adorable things. She calls eyebrows, eyebrellas.  She calls knives, sharks (because they can bite 'cha!).  She says "Shiver me timbers!" and "Ahoy mateys!" and "Kiss my grits!" and "Exsqueeze me please" when we pass someone in the aisle of a store. She says, "Happy 'scuse me" instead of "May I be excused" when she is done with dinner.  She knows all of the numbers in our address, but not in the right order.  She will tell you today she is "free years old."  She learned about Band-Aids and tape in the same week and now thinks mommy can fix anything.  Staples and glue are going to blow her mind.  She is so brave outside with the other kids if she falls down or gets hurt, but inside, a too-sharp tone can bring on the tears.  When she cries, she asks for a tissue, blows her nose, then throws the tissue away.  Everything isn't all better, but close.  She loves to eat M&Ms, mandarin oranges, pizza, pepperoni (but not on her pizza), and her daddy's bread, waffles and scones, but not his blueberry muffins.  But just plain blueberries, she can eat two pints a week or more.  She is my oxygen, my young pair of eyes.  I love that little girl so much it hurts some days.  Happy day sweet Bug.  Enjoy your purple door!

Intro, finally.

So I'm a thirty-something SAHM (not necessarily by choice) to two little girls.  I haven't thought my way through all of the internet blogging security issues, so I will call them Bug (almost three) and Squish (almost one) here.  Bug because she used to curl up like a little bug against me when she was tiny.  I was trying to reserve that nickname for her.  My heart broke a little bit when Squish was born on the first day of June and the doctor goes, "oh, you have a little junebug."  Squish is, well squishy.  Her sister had some adorable baby chub, but Squish is covered with arm rolls and tummy packs and some of the best baby thigh chub you've ever seen.  It was a surprise to me and Squish she became.  I love it.

I have The Best Husband in the World.  He is thoughtful, kind, and smart.  He knows where to scratch my back when it itches.  He bakes and cooks, gardens and cleans (some).  He lets the girls do his hair and comes to our tea parties.  Sometimes with a big hat on.  He is scared of craft time and glitter (that may be related to my aforementioned non-love of cleaning).  He cleans all of our girl hair out of the drains in our bathroom (but he makes me share a bathroom with the girls, so he has a man-bathroom), he makes homemade ice cream, he eats strange meals I make with little complaint.  He also makes fun of me when I get lost within three blocks of our house and deliberately brings up controversial topics on long road trips so I'll stay awake and argue with him.  He still pretty much rocks.


I'm sure I'll end up sharing more.  Maybe one day I'll even share a link to this blog somewhere so I'll get some readers.  Or not :)