Dancing queen ~ September 29, 2013

 

Video: https://www.dropbox.com/s/qk4qpndm1kc86y1/2013-09-29%2008.35.29.mp4

 

 

 

Helping mama register for little brother

Practicing for brudda'

Anyone watched "Parenthood" the movie lately?

Turkey

Rainy with a chance of lunacy ~ September 28th, 2013

Forecast is stormy all weekend. Been up since 3 something because "windows noisy" from the rain. Watching the movie Pitch Perfect, she's accompanying the music with marracas and her harmonica while farting.

ME DO!!! ~ September 27th, 2013

Nora and her newly acquired baby going for a ride.
Seatbelts for safety.

Our two year old is convinced that she is perfectly capable of managing any task and that we're just in her way. On one hand, I'm very proud that she has such confidence in herself and her abilities...on the other hand I want to rip my hair out, and then her own, when it comes to trying to convince her that certain tasks need to be completed by her mother, such as (but not limited to):

- Putting my bra on.
- Latching her and unlatching her into her carseat.
- Using a knife.
- Operating heavy machinery like a car or a Kitchenaid food processor.
- Wiping myself after using the toilet.
- Herding our chickens back into the coop.
- Pushing a grocery cart full of groceries through a parking lot.
- Navigating the zoo, the mall, elevators, or escalators on her own.

Things she can do on her own that still impress the hell out of us:

- Dress herself; including socks, shoes, and hat...jackets are tough. I agree.

- Climb up to the table, sit in her chair, eat a meal on her own, take her dishes to the counter, and push her chair in...and use a cloth napkin properly.

- Brush her teeth.

- Put herself to sleep.

- Take apart electronic items.

- Operate the remotes, smartphones, and tablets.

Things I look forward to her mastering:  the potty. Everything else is icing on the toddler cake of life.

I see old people. ~ September 17th, 2013

Originally we had planned on accompanying some of our friends to the zoo but they had a sleepless night and felt more like wild animals themselves and didn't want to view any that day. I had made the colossal mistake of mentioning "zoo" and "go" in the same sentence to our daughter so off we went.

 

Immediately upon entering the parking lot I sensed that something was not quite right. Where were all the strollers? Where was the telltale line of mothers with creatures? Why was I able to find parking so easily in a shady spot?

 

As I pulled into a spot I heard from the backseat, "I pee-peed!" So I went around to lay Nora on the opposite end of the backseat to change her diaper. In the midst of doing so a brand new Jaguar pulled in to the empty spot I was standing in and narrowly missed me. The other six empty spots near us were unsuitable I suppose. My bad, I should have known he was of the "but it's me" tribe. I grumbled to myself, glared at him, told him manically to have a great day, wondered why he left his car near me, and continued on with changing Nora.

 

As we walked to the entrance I reviewed the rules for the zoo with her:  we are not part of the exhibit, hold mama's hand, and if it's wet don't touch it. I wondered to myself why that old guy tried to run us over. Why was he in such a hurry? What was with all the luxury cars and disabled stickers...wait a minute!

 

Then I saw it in red LED lights on the display board above the ticket booth: "Free senior day."

 

Free senior day at the zoo? I hadn't heard of this but I thought it might be entertaining for Nora and it could mean she wouldn't have to fight with other kids to see the animals. There was no line to enter either because they were waving anyone that looked over 50 in with a simple "welcome". I was relieved that they didn't so to myself. The ticket booth warned me stoically that it was senior day. I responded, "Yeah, should be fairly quiet today." She looked at me with a smirk and said, "Not really." Hmm, bad day maybe? Not a fan of the senior citizen brigade? I would think "free" would be music to her ears since she only had to sit and stare for most of the day but maybe not.

 

Then we neared the ticket takers.  We see old people...and they're everywhere. Standing in clusters with maps, squinting through glasses, leaning on walkers, asking each other "WHAT?!", and loading onto limousine-sized golf carts nicknamed "Zoomers" being driven by doting volunteers. Nora clung to me a litter closer and gripped my hand. Maybe there would be hidden perks to this after all.

 

We avoided the Northwest exhibits and opted for the streamlined path that we typically took that started with the otters. Not so aromatic or crowded normally so it allowed for Nora to warm up to the idea of viewing animals.

 

As we entered the tunnel leading to the water mammals I noticed it smelled distinctly of ointment and pee. Nora exclaimed, "Pew! It stink!" An elderly couple shot a pair of menacing looks my way and I timidly responded to Nora while holding their eye contact, "Yes, honey, the animals can be stinky...let's go see them." Oh, if only this tunnel had a special bypass route.

 

The otters held little appeal for her since she now was convinced that they reeked of pee so we moved on to the sea lions. She was determined to take the stairs on her own down to the large viewing window and stood perfectly still while the seal did its loop up to the window in front of her. Displaying its belly up against the glass as it swooped into a back ben and sped away further into the tank to come back again and again while she stared in amazement. An elderly woman watched Nora with delight and approached us slowly using her walker for support. She couldn't make it down the stairs and settled for sitting on one of the sunken benches that ringed the exhibit window.

 

I took Nora's hand and led her back up the stairs and asked if she wanted to sit with me for a bit. She said ok and I made a point of sitting her near the woman but not too close. They had a short conversation about swimming, seals, and why they might stink. The lady asked me about Nora and was shocked that she was two. I'm not sure if she was trying to be flattering or was genuinely surprised but it was nice to hear all the same. She asked if she could rub my belly and I obliged her. Nora reminded me that I promised to see the polar bears so we wished her a good day and moved on.

We were both getting tired and I had promised her the train so I flagged down a zoomer to get a lift. Nora was all smiles and shouting, "Whoa!" We squeezed in next to an elderly woman with Nora in the middle. As I held onto Nora, the woman began talking to her, while farting loudly, and asking me about my pregnancy mentioning I must be due any day now. "Nope, only 22 weeks, thanks though." She then asked if he was kicking and groped my stomach before I could say anything to stop her. Nora came to the rescue, "NO! My baby! My brudda'!"

The lady cracked up laughing and commended Nora on being a protective sister. She looked up at her, gently patted her leg, and said sweetly with an understanding smile, "You pooped." The conversation abruptly ended. I was very proud of her and gave her a squeeze. Even a two year old knows that you're annoying lady. We were both relieved to be away from her and in line for the train shortly after departing the zoomer. The gentleman driving the cart gave us a knowing smile and wished us fun on the ride.

The train ride was wonderful! Peaceful and beautiful minus the loud conversations from the senior citizens and the odd gentleman seated in front of us who refused to stop staring at Nora even when she asked him to.



In this photo she was staring back at the old man staring at her and saying, "No like...stop it."

Nora commented how green it was, so many ferns, flowers, and happily ate her snacks. She reached for my hand and leaned against me with a sigh. It felt like magic, it was one of those moments that I had waited for over those many years in hopes of being a mother.

Then we got home. She refused to nap, two big stinky poops later and she refused to use the potty, and kept asking for "dada". This pregnant lady is looking forward to when I can sleep through the night without having to pee every few hours, when our children are potty trained, when we can take them on amusement rides...right now, I would just settle for a cocktail.

But as we cuddle on the couch watching Bob's Burgers, and I kiss her on her head, I remember the train ride together today, how my kisses are magic for her at this age and she tells me, "Elbow needs kiss." How my hugs can fix a bad day, the smiles she gives me, and our little jokes for each other. There are those don't understand my choice for staying at home with Nora but it's moments like those today that remind me why and how much I love being a mother.

 

 

Why I don't use my phone to talk. ~ September 15th, 2013

Children have an innate sense of technology. They understand that it can allow them lots of mayhem or is the obstacle to having their parents undivided attention. Our child is no different.

So on a mellow evening when I engaged in a phone conversation with my mother, while folding laundry in our bedroom, I thought nothing much of trying to complete the chat without our toddler's interruption since she was busy snuggling with my husband on the couch watching their favorite show together, Bob's Burgers. Oh, silly mama.

A small voice called from the doorway to our room, "Hi." I smiled at her endearingly and replied, "Hi." And attempted to continue speaking with my mother while folding my clothes. She approached the laundry basket and said again, "Hi." I replied, "Hi, Nora. I'm talking with Nana. I'll be out in a moment." Rookie mistake.

"Hi Gan-ma! Hi Nana! Hi..." Which of course solicited a five minute exchange between her and Grandma over the phone of saying "Hi" to one another and my mother giggling. We commenced our conversation and Nora sensed that she didn't have our attention. Stage 2 of her attention assault was under way. I will now dress myself in mama's clothes.

 




Taunting a pregnant woman with her granny pannies is like poking an angry bear. Unless of course you're adorable and two...then it's just hilarious.
 

Curses, her plan worked! I interrupted our conversation to use my phone to take these photos and said good bye to my mother. The two year old wins again.

Pictures of mama...

I'll freely admit, I don't like having my picture taken but I realize that I need to get over that since it has little to do with me and more to do with documenting a history for my children (now soon to be the plural). It's an issue that will always be a work in progress because:  1.) my husband takes the worst photos of me, 2.) I'm incredibly sensitive about bad photos of me, and 3.) all photos of me are bad.

Because of this, Jamie isn't fond of taking my picture or my criticisms (see captions below). So there are very few pictures of me in existence but we're trying to change that for Nora's sake and now for her little brother. We'll do our best to capture some better quality bump photos but I have to ask Jamie to take them and he's a little scared to...

Great shot of my breasts, Jamie...not quite sure how this has anything to do with my bump unless you're counting my chins. This gets a D-.

The least flattering photo of me...ever. Childbirth photos were better. I have a mystery stain on my shirt, three chins, and what looks like a homeless street kid's belongings next to me. I give this a F-.

This I obviously took myself, not good. I give it a C.

Better lighting, definitely shows the bump, total miss on wearing my slippers and getting them in the shot. C+ at best.

This photo would be great if it wasn't so hilariously obvious that no one uses our good camera but myself. Put the phone down and setup a tripod, Barb. Oh, and maybe clear all that shit out of the way before you take a pic. Shameful, D.

Again, pick up the other camera but good try minus the lack of supportive bra, the crap in the background, and the fact that you're having to take this picture yourself. C- based on principle.